And So I Watch You From Afar : Megafauna
Megafauna reveals that Belfast’s And So I Watch You From Afar are more concerned with growth than growing up. Case in point: the Northern Irish quartet took a sledgehammer to preconceived notions about their sound last time out with Jettison, surfacing in early 2022 after the project initially hit the skids due to the pandemic. It may be jokingly referred to by the band as their “mature” record, but it acted as a sonic reset for them; by dint of being a primarily instrumental band, playing music deemed “cinematic” is part of their job description, so exploring those tendencies with a single-segment, multi-movement piece of music they performed in a live setting backed by a string quartet worked as well in theory as in practice.
To revert to type would have been seen as playing it safe, and the band—Rory Friers and Niall Kennedy on guitar, Rory’s brother Ewen on bass and Chris Wee on drums—just aren’t interested in doing that. Each album has built upon the framework laid by its predecessor, all the way back to 2009’s self-titled debut, and Megafauna is no different, taking the baton passed by Jettison and running with it. Opener “North Coast Megafauna” offers a more streamlined update of the band’s trademark dynamic sound, a relentlessly hooky affair whether it’s ping-ponging between odd-time riffs and tricky syncopated grooves or steamrolling the listener with a punishing, sludgy waltz breakdown that’s prime mosh-pit fodder.
Speaking of which, there are plenty of reminders scattered throughout the album of just how much muscle ASIWYFA’s compositions have behind them. “Gallery of Honour” opens up into an absolute shitkicker of a song, with Wee (who, I’ll remind you, is so committed that he’s got the band’s logo tattooed on his chest) playing up a storm, carrying the song through a ghostly, choral-assist collapse and its lush, expansive second half, bolstered by twinkling piano runs and the band sounding perhaps the most locked-in they’ve ever been—which, if you’ve seen them live before, is quite the compliment.
The airy production gives the record a widescreen, off-the-floor feel; impressive given that the band hit the studio and recorded everything in a week. Sprawling two-parter “Mother Belfast” pays tribute to the band’s home city, clocking in at nearly 10 minutes and putting on a masterclass in the process, leaning into spacey soundscapes and toying with shifting textures and dynamics, such that once you think you’ve got a handle on where the track is going, it shifts gears again, transitioning into neck-snapping riffs before another thrilling tempo shift and plodding piano backing ushers in the song’s celebratory second half. The song ends up a mile from where they started.
That’s one thing about ASIWYFA: they just can’t stand still, even in more contemplative moments like the nostalgia-soaked “Years Ago,” or the back-to-back mini-epics of “Any Joy” (sure to stir the hearts of anyone who came aboard with Jettison) and penultimate track “Button Days,” which offers the relentless attack of the band’s early material with a contemporary twist. Across these nine songs and 43 minutes, the quartet sound larger than life and truly revitalized for their brief excursion into soundtrack territory—you can’t put that particular genie back in the bottle, and the band stretch themselves where it counts, to deliver something that seems as close to the platonic ideal of an And So I Watch You From Afar record in 2024. Still going, still growing—mega isn’t the word. Seventeen years on, their machine still can’t be stopped.
Label: Velocity/Pelagic
Year: 2024
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And So I Watch You From Afar : Megafauna
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