The indefinite hiatus of black midi a few years ago came as a surprise to many casual listeners. Emerging from London venue, The Windmill, and its much talked about scene, the band had delivered three acclaimed records, each a volatile fusion of intricate progressive rock, abrasive post-punk, and angular art rock. That a group of BRIT School students could encourage a younger audience toward something so unapologetically prog-leaning is no small feat.
Their break, initially announced as temporary, though it feels increasingly permanent, remains something of a mystery. However, the arrival of My New Band Believe, the debut from former bassist and multi-instrumentalist Cameron Picton’s new project of the same name, suggests those familiar difficulties of collaborative work, creative differences. Where ex-black midi singer Geordie Greep’s 2024 solo effort The New Sound largely delivered what one might expect, more refinement than reinvention, Picton’s new band ventures a distinctly different avenue.
Opening track Target Practice sets the tone with an ornate flourish of baroque pop, ushering the listener into a world that is no less frenetic than black midi’s, but noticeably different in texture. The album is frothing with adventurous ideas, animated by an almost otherworldly melodic instinct and realised through an eclectic, largely acoustic palette. This lends its constant shifts in tone and tempo an organic, almost living quality. In place of distortion and brutalism, Picton and his collaborators opt for the elegance of strings, plucked acoustic guitars, and flashes of brass. Sudden, razor-sharp dynamic shifts keep the music unpredictable, yet controlled.
There are echoes here of Chicago post-rock outfit Gastr del Sol, particularly in the way progressive, left-field ambition is filtered through a more pastoral, folk-inspired instrumentation. Picton’s melodic sensibility, though, feels closer to the psychedelia of the 1960s, drawing comparisons to The Beach Boys’ abandoned SMiLE project and the ornate arrangements of Van Dyke Parks’ Song Cycle. Other touchstones on initial listens include the singular songwriting of Robert Wyatt and the restless, sundown psychedelia of Arthur Lee and Love.
Like those artists, Picton approaches the studio as a space for exploration rather than mere documentation. Early highlight Heart of Darkness, stretches past eight minutes, and encapsulates this approach. It begins as carefully composed sunshine pop with gentle jazz inflections, shifting into a tense mid-section of stark, fingerpicked minimalism, then re-emerges in a swooning haze of soulful melody before dissolving into a loose, rhythmic crawl of scrapes, plucks, and incidental noise.
That such a piece is followed by the fragile, breezy charm of Love Story evidences the album’s ambitious scope. Its sweetness feels almost out of place after the preceding experimental sprawl, yet the transition doesn’t jar. Instead , such sequencing reinforces the album’s promotional talk of dream logic, as one door closes, another opens into an alternate space. Here, My New Band Believerecalls Black Country, New Road, fellow alumni of the Windmill scene, and their shift from post-rock unease toward ornate, folk-inflected pop. There are also parallels with caroline (members of whom guest here), whose fluid, amorphous compositions find a relative here in acoustic form. Listeners drawn to Forever Howlong or caroline 2 will find much to enjoy.
The album’s greatest strength lies in Picton’s gift for melody, together with a refusal to let it settle. Moments of clarity emerge only to be reshaped, extended, or abandoned altogether. It’s a restless, intuitive approach that propels the record forward, where each piece of its intricate puzzle branches off into a wider, evolving whole. An absorbing, unpredictable drift through a landscape of constant reinvention.
My New Band Believe is out now on vinyl & CD.
