Kate Nash is an artist who's been on constant rotation in my ears, albeit with just her breakout hit, Foundations. I always meant to delve a little deeper, but never got around to it. I think what gave me the nudge was hearing her great interview on Adam Buxton's podcast. She sounded in person just how you imagine her from her songs, not just in voice but in personality, which exudes through her music. I was surprised she was still recording, not because I doubted her talent, but because Made of Bricks came out 18 years ago, back in the heyday of Indie Launchpad. Since then, she's released four albums, culminating in this 2024 release.

The album opens with Millions of Heartbeats and the tinkling of ivories. I was eagerly anticipating hearing her voice and I wasn't disappointed. If you've heard Foundations, you'll know her voice hasn’t fallen victim to that strange syndrome where artists lose their accents. There's no mistaking her London roots. Maybe it makes it easier for me to connect, myself coming from the heart of London, but I think that's only a small contributing factor. The bigger factor is just her incredible ability to bang out a great song. The track hooks you right from the start and reels you in without mercy, which is strange given the juxtaposition of the lyrics and the music. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, given the album's title, but you can’t help feeling lifted even while being wrapped in someone else’s sorrow.

The next track, Misery, keeps up the high-octane vibe, though the more sombre lyrics continue to tell a story. Lyrically it's very simple, but you can feel the relentless push forward. Running.

Wasteman is the first of three tracks with an explicit tag, and while it’s good to be mindful of that for more sensitive ears, it’s a joy to hear natural thoughts and language brought to the forefront. The song feels like a spiritual successor to Foundations, berating a waste-of-space man. I love the throwaway line, "Gonna need an f***ing dongle to deal with you, mate."

With Abandoned, the high energy drops away for a bit, but it’s no less captivating. This song perfectly captures that late-night feeling of being completely alone. For many it might not be abandonment exactly, but it doesn’t take much to understand that natural progression.

It’s funny, during the next track I was distracted and found myself bobbing my head to the music. Clip, clop, clip, clop. How very apt for the song to be called Horsie. It really describes that sense of lethargy and the mundane. We’ve all been there. OK, maybe I’m not selling these tracks well, but they’re part of a journey and securely part of this jigsaw.

My Bile, how I anticipated thee. How could this possibly be turned into a song? It’s not a song. It’s a vehement F you and I love it, especially the rapid-fire verses and sweeping choruses. I also have to give a shout-out to the harpsichord, an instrument I think is vastly underused in modern music.

These Feelings does a 180 and we’re back into more familiar territory. Sorrow and fear spun into an infectious track. Maybe not the most apt description, or maybe it is, given that this and a few others on the album were likely written and released as singles during COVID.

With Space Odyssey 2001, I was somehow expecting a David Bowie cover, obviously not having read the title closely enough. What we do get is a great song with a story, albeit a pretty sad one. I have to mention the incredible strings used throughout the album. They sound particularly amazing on this track, with the stirring, sweeping lead out.

On the next track, I couldn’t help but think, Oh Ray what have you done, in eager anticipation of her berating some aforementioned idiot. However, the Ray in this case is sunshine, and with it comes the hope of making it through to the other side. I couldn’t help but want to give her a hug.

Vampyre, the final track, takes on a very different sound, almost lo-fi. I honestly found myself laughing at first, and then, boom, almost in tears. Anyone wondering about the title need only listen for the amazing lyric, Let the demons from your past explode into the sun. And just like that, the album was over. For a minute or two, I just sat there, stunned.

The theme running through this album is indeed sadness and pain and sorrow. But it’s about documenting it, using it as catharsis, and when you’re Kate Nash, coming out the other end with something to be proud of. And she should be. Rightly so.

This album is a prime example of what Indie Launchpad is all about. Highlighting absolutely incredible music. It’s kind of a shame I’m a little late to the party, this album having come out in 2024, but if I manage to notch up one listen, one sale, one new fan, then it’s all worth it. Don’t just listen to the album, please buy it.