Black Country, New Road Reimagine Themselves with “Forever, Howlong”
After Isaac Wood's sudden departure in 2022, right before the release of Ants From Up There, many fans wondered what would become of Black Country, New Road. Wood, with his confessional lyrics and charismatic presence, had become the emotional and narrative center of the band. In the years since, the group has quietly transformed, stepping back from the limelight and the obsessive attention that once made them a cult phenomenon. Forever, Howlong, their first studio album in three years, is a testament to what comes after rupture: a sprawling, deeply strange, and beautiful work of redefinition.
Gone are the sharp, neurotic monologues and chamber-pop climaxes that once defined them. What we get instead is something gentler, more diffuse — a pastoral, emotionally intricate record that leans into whimsical storytelling and baroque textures. The songs here are built on piano, acoustic guitar, banjo, woodwinds, mandolin, and even recorders, evoking the landscape of a muddy English countryside filtered through the lens of magical realism and quiet despair. It's a record that feels like it’s constantly slipping between forms, like a dream trying to hold onto itself.
The band’s vocal duties are now split evenly between bassist Tyler Hyde, keyboardist May Kershaw, and violinist Georgia Ellery. Their voices weave in and out of each other, often harmonizing in moments that feel like spells. On “Mary,” the three sing together, almost as if comforting each other through the trauma they describe: “She screams in the shower/Lost all of her power/Keep face, she'll leave no trace, not even in her home.” It’s ghostly, but tender.
Tracks like “The Big Spin” and “Two Horses” exemplify the band’s new narrative ambitions. The former is laced with nature imagery and gentle existential dread (“How many things can one read 'til they feel they're not afraid of it all?”), while the latter follows a picaresque journey that ends in violent equine mutilation—all set to a country-tinged melody that explodes into chaos midway through. “Salem Sisters” begins as a summery scene, complete with barbecues and laughter, only to reveal itself as a story of execution by fire. That kind of narrative bait-and-switch—whimsical at first glance, then quietly horrifying—is everywhere in this album.
The music often shifts tempo with each new vocal line, as if the band is writing in real time. “For the Cold Country” tells the story of a knight who ends up flying a kite with his own ghost, cycling through multiple medieval motifs before erupting into a triumphant post-rock finale. “Happy Birthday” is perhaps the most traditionally rock-oriented song here, driving and loud but still filled with cryptic turns. Then there’s the title track, “Forever, Howlong,” which is all soft dream logic and recorders, with one of the album’s most arresting lines: “Out for a walk, I imagine three times slipping on the wet leaves/And the blood rushing out from the cracks in my head/Then merges with the red and amber mulch.”
Despite the dense instrumentation—mandolins, flutes, eight-string bass—and episodic structures, these songs are held together by strong melodic cores. Even at their most abstract, they feel composed, emotionally deliberate. The result is a kind of whimsical Englishness, but more Gawain than Ghibli, more myth than twee.
Forever, Howlong is far from a straightforward comeback. It’s exploratory, uncertain, and occasionally too eccentric for its own good—but that’s precisely what makes it so compelling. In the wake of their frontman’s departure, Black Country, New Road could’ve collapsed or copied themselves. Instead, they’ve wandered deeper into the forest, following strange lights. What they’ve brought back is something slow-burning, meditative, and cryptic—a new beginning.