Mountain Song

I’m blundering through My First Real Heartbreak in radical fashion. The greatest minds are preparing an award in honor of my valuable contributions, which is very kind of them.

The urge to triple text and cry on public transit lets up for just a second, so I’m flailing to figure out my next move, my new era.

Note titled “goals”: to exist and be interesting, to CLIMB and MOUNT and SCALE my sorrow.

So a mountain, because I grew Very Literal and my only other idea is taking up the guitar, which would be admitting defeat.

I will become a Nature Guy and climb a mountain. The plan is to curate a self that finds solace in trees and horizons, that draws inspiration from landscapes, that is fine with being solitary, when really I’m feral and boring and losing my luster.

by Josh Rosenthal

Maybe I won’t be helpless if I can do this, if I can go from base to summit without remembering the heartbeat I lost and haven’t found since.

But I can’t even make it out of bed before I Remember. I only text twice this time.

“You’re not a failure,” my friends in relationships say when I lament about just wanting to climb the damn mountain, which gathers dust in a folder titled “places to go.”

And then he folds me into the passenger seat of his Land Rover like a stuffed animal on vacation and we drive past mountains and my chest gets heavy and the mountains are beautiful and oh, there it is again.

The pressure on the back of the next generation is starting to create cracks, and from the fissures comes the Essex trio Bilk’s debut album, Bilk.

With themes like political upsets, growing up, being an outsider, and dealing with our image-driven world, Bilk manages to be a bullhorn for their generation without taking themselves too seriously.

They make their statements through blunt and honest lyrics coated in British colloquialisms and experiences with lyrics like “four pints at the local spoons,” “part and parcel,” “signing onto the dole,” and “Tesco value vodka drinking p—k.” A thick Southern-British accent sings these lyrics, adding undeniable charm.

Their debut album comes after five years of grinding and demonstrates the growth they have experienced in that time. The difference between their first acoustic single, “In Your Car,” released in 2020, and “It’s No Longer There,” - which is reminiscent of The Libertines’ “Music When the Lights go Out” - from their album makes this apparent. The lyrics tackle a more complex subject, and the guitar playing advances. However, the acoustic tracks are hardly the highlight of this album. Singer Sol Abraham’s voice is best heard at the front of a fast-paced mix of indie rock, pop, and rap, which the rest of the album delivers.

“Hummus and Pita,” “Daydreamer,” and “Stand Up” are easily the hardest songs on the album with their anti-establishment lyrics, guitar-led bridges, and quick tempo. Although, Bilk provides a solid middle ground with “10 O’Clock,” which sounds like the closing track from an Inbetweeners episode.

While a few verses from the album lack the instrumental kick larger bands bring, and some lyrics can be cheesy, Bilk redeem themselves with catchy choruses and guitar-heavy bridges.

Their fans push them to the frontlines as Bilk has sold out their 10gig UK album tour. They are finishing these gigs at the beginning of March, and one can only hope Bilk will bring their bullhorn to the US next.

<3 Josephine Best