THE FRONT ROW

Some bands put out a debut EP to test the waters. Revivalry cannonball into the pool, pint in hand, screaming down the timeline of British indie like it’s theirs to rewrite. With Modern Nostalgia, the Cleethorpes trio don’t just nod to the past, they barrel roll through it, crash into the present, and come out swinging with something familiar, urgent and totally their own.

From the opening riff of “The Town,” you know you’re in safe, sweaty hands. This is music made for sticky gig floors and torn-up Converse, written by a band who’ve already carved their name into the regional circuit without ever pretending to be anything they’re not. “The Town” is about longing for the weekend, a love letter to the fringe-dwellers who live 9-to-5 and only feel alive when the lights go down and the amps switch on. It’s tribal, it’s communal, a war cry for the loners who’ve found their people in the pit. As choruses go, it’s already ready for festival season: big, arms-around-your-mates energy, drenched in the kind of unfiltered truth that makes you feel seen.

Then comes “Kick Off,” a buzzsaw of a track built on the sacred ritual of Saturday football. This one crashes through the speakers like a storming midfield tackle. You can practically smell the pies and Bovril. But this isn’t lazy lad rock, it’s tribal storytelling with teeth. Revivalry tap into the joy, the pain, the weird poetry of matchday loyalty, all wrapped in squalling guitars and a chorus that could go toe-to-toe with early Catfish or mid-2000s Monkeys. It’s a working-class anthem in Adidas stripes, full of heart, grit and a pride you can’t fake.

The emotional anchor of Modern Nostalgia, though, is undoubtedly “Blue Underground.” This is where the bravado drops, the lights dim, and the rawness seeps in. It’s Revivalry at their most intimate, not just sonically, but lyrically, thematically, emotionally. Inspired by a personal battle with a loved one’s dementia, it’s a song about presence and absence, about watching someone slip away piece by piece. The maturity here is staggering. The lyrics ache with restraint; the production lets silence do some of the talking. It’s the kind of track you don’t just hear, you feel in your ribs. And when it’s played live, as the band says, you believe the whole room stops breathing. For a band this young to land a song this heavy, and this hopeful, is nothing short of remarkable.

Then comes “Lost,” which swings the pendulum back to existential dread, Revivalry-style. Here, the dream isn’t dying, it’s already dead and buried under the weight of middle-aged Monday mornings. It’s a track that stares hard into the future and doesn’t like what it sees. But even while it wallows in uncertainty, it does so with a grin. There’s something beautifully British about finding joy in the bleakness, and “Lost” delivers it with a gallows humour that would make Alex Turner nod in approval. The guitars crunch, the drums stomp, and somewhere in the background, your teenage self is already planning an escape route.

“Two Sips” flips the tempo to close things out, but not the attitude. It’s the soundtrack to every house party you ever barely survived, sticky floors, blurred boundaries and questionable decisions. There’s something brilliantly Inbetweeners about it; it captures that anxious teenage chaos without ever sneering at it. This is the band letting us remember nights of pound-shop vodka and first heartbreaks and finding beauty in the disaster. Ben Townsend’s guitar scythes through the track like a memory you didn’t ask for, and Joshua Corfield’s vocal swagger never slips, even when the protagonist clearly does.

Despite the weight of the themes, aging, disillusionment, illness, isolation, Modern Nostalgia never once feels bleak. That’s Revivalry’s trick. They take these tough subjects and thread them through with hope, humanity and riotous live-ready energy. Their influences are clear, you can hear flecks of the Monkeys’ wit, the Reytons’ bite, maybe even a touch of early Foals chaos, but this isn’t pastiche. It’s a band building a sound from the bones of what they love, and welding it into something fresh.

And that name, Modern Nostalgia, couldn’t be more apt. It’s not just a description of the EP, it’s Revivalry’s mission statement. These songs are rooted in real places: pubs, terraces, venues, living rooms. But they’re also peppered with reflection, longing, and a hunger to connect beyond the moment. Even when they’re writing about the here and now, there’s a clear-eyed awareness that these moments matter because they’ll pass. That’s what gives the EP its charge, a blend of joy and melancholy that makes you want to laugh, cry, dance and text your oldest mate all at once.

What’s most exciting, though, is the potential. If this is just the beginning — and it is — Revivalry could be one of the next big success stories of the UK alt-indie scene. They’ve already earned a rep as a must-see live band, tearing it up at Kendal Calling in 2024, and prepping for another round of sweaty summer dates across the country. You don’t earn that kind of buzz without backing it up. And Modern Nostalgia? That’s the sound of a band proving they’re more than hype.

There’s a lot to love here, the punchy hooks, the lyrical openness, the rough-edged charm, but what really seals the deal is how lived in this EP feels. It’s not polished within an inch of its life, and thank God for that. It’s honest. It’s heart-on-sleeve. It’s built for sticky floors and cigarette breaks and yelling the lyrics at the top of your lungs while spilling your pint. It’s a debut that wears its flaws like a badge of honour and dares you not to care.

So here’s your warning: Revivalry are coming. And if Modern Nostalgia is what they can do out the gate, you might want to get a ticket before they’re playing somewhere you can’t afford.