There’s always been something special about Peace.
We’ve been fans of theirs for a few years, and that’s for good reason: specifically, because they have a habit of popping out gorgeously unhinged rock and roll music, complete with choruses the size of stadiums and levels of bombastic bravado that have long been bigger than the venues they played in. Their first album – 2013’s In Love – was played to death here at One on One HQ, and we hit play on their sophomore effort so often we were left Googling the symptoms of repetitive strain disorder.
Lately, though, we’ve been shown a whole other side to this bunch of Brummie good-time boys. After disappearing for a year to write and record their new album, Kindness Is The New Rock And Roll, front man Harry Koisser emerged with a shaggy haircut, a solid set of new tracks, and a brilliant new habit: namely, that of openly acknowledging his struggles with his mental health.
Mental instability doesn’t have to be the new rock and roll
It’s sad, but it’s true: not enough people within the music industry are talking about the strains that life as a touring musician can take on a band member’s mental health. It’s an unusual existence, for sure: you wake up every afternoon in a new city, see little of it other than a car park and a dimly-lit dressing room, and experience the highs of playing a sold-out show to a crowd full of people who know both your name and your songs; then, you retreat back to your tour bus bunk, with nothing to keep you company except your laptop, your social media accounts, and your Big Fucking Mental Head.
That’s why we think that it’s never a bad thing for a band to have a frontman who has something to say. Sure, plenty of bands can write great songs; but, how many of those can claim to have made a real difference to the lives of their fans? Judging by the amount of teary girls, super-fans with Peace tattoos, and people screaming Koisser and co.’s lyrics back at them, we think that Peace may well be able to lay claim to that title; and, by openly discussing his struggles with depression and anxiety disorders, we think that there’s a fair chance that Koisser may well be helping far more people than he realises by talking about his issues within the confines of an indie-rock world that’s more frequently habited by macho-man personalities than it is genuinely honest men.
They don’t just walk the walk, either
What’s equally as important, though, is that Peace also happen to be a pretty flippin’ brilliant live band. Their show at Bristol’s SWX was an exercise in how to bring arena-sized indie anthems to an Academy-sized venue, and – technical hitches and a false start aside – they executed it perfectly. The opening notes of Magnificent were met with a roar; the crunching power-pop of Power was screamed back into the faces of the four-piece; and the chorus of Lovesick sparked a singalong as loud as any we’re heard in an arena for a long, long time.
Of all the tracks aired, though, it’s From Under Liquid Glass that gets the biggest reaction of the night. Not only does it get the biggest roar from the capacity crowd, but people seriously get into it. There’s a good reason for that, too: not only is it probably their best track, but it’s certainly their most honest. It’s got a stadium-ready chorus, while still feeling intimate; it’s got brutally honest lyrics, that still manage to be quotable enough to be used as Instagram captions; and it’s sang with every ounce of heart and soul that Harry Koisser can muster. That, dear reader, is precisely what makes Peace so important. Sure, they make indie-rock, and some people might look down on them for that: but, we’ll be damned if they don’t mean each word, and feel each note, that tumbles out of their minds and hands.
If what they tell us is true and Kindness Is The New Rock And Roll, then we’re convinced that honesty might be the new kindness; and, if that’s the case, then we think that Peace may well be the world’s most important rock stars.
