Kent-based duo The Worry People are unleashing an interesting banger of a track with their latest single, Stamp.
Stamp dives headfirst into a darker, more intense sound from what the band normally dabbles in. It’s a sonic shift that feels less like a gentle nudge and more like a desperate scream into the void. With pulsating, anxious rhythms and a sound that practically hums with barely contained frustration complimented by samples of actual sirens, Stewart and Dodd have essentially created the soundtrack to the slow erosion of real human connection.
Yet the band keeps the best qualities of their earlier stuff; making an infectious, high-energy indie alt-rock anthem but now, dripping with cynicism, catchy hooks, and just a touch of existential dread.
The track launches into a relentless, pulsating beat, accompanied by sharp, shimmering guitars that wouldn’t feel out of place on an early The Killers record. It’s upbeat on the surface but laced with a certain self-aware melancholy. It’s as if it’s actively trying to outrun its own emotional baggage.
The hook is explosive, the verses glide effortlessly, and the whole track radiates the kind of anthemic energy that makes it the perfect song to listen to, should you ever find yourself in the middle of an existential crisis but also, somehow at the same time, absolutely vibing, this song was made for you.
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A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
