I recall noting when putting pen to paper for a previous single, “Collision,” I think, that The Zangwills were one of those bands that create music in that magical place where pop, rock, and indie sonic tides all converge. This time out, all those elements are still in place, but they lean more toward a shimmering and ethereal indie sound, one more about grace than groove, mellifluousness rather than melodic muscle.
And there is something quintessentially English at the heart of the song, too, certainly in the lyrical content, which discusses conversations had and friendships forged with the older regulars of local pubs. A connection that, without the ties of close friendship or family, those chats become easier and non-judgmental. The picture painted of the eclectic, eccentric, and wonderfully random and accepting nature of a rural English pub is something that is ingrained in most people’s upbringing.
It’s a song built on finesse, a mesh of gossamer sounds – interlocking, shimmering guitars, beats, and bass lines that are succinct and yet propulsive, helping to push the song into anthemic heights and vocals that are effortlessly engaging.
And the titular Beekeeper? Well, of course, he is just a metaphor, standing in for the idea that we all get stung by love, especially when we find ourselves in relationships where even the simplest conversations find us at odds. His bee stings might cause discomfort, but emotional ones take a lot longer to recover from.
It’s a big song, despite its sonically fragile nature, a summer soundtrack, a clever song that proves that when appropriately orchestrated, even the most modest and spacious set of sounds can be transformed into something quite brilliant and wholly majestic.
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