Desperate Journalist’s fifth album, No Hero, marks a shift in their creative approach, led by guitarist Rob Hardy and vocalist Jo Bevan’s collaborative experimentation with a Behringer Poly D synth. Hardy wrote demos in isolation on previous albums before Bevan added lyrics and melodies, but this time, they aimed for a more integrated process.
The band’s goal for No Hero was ambitious: to be “simultaneously weirder and more pop” than ever before. While there’s “no overarching concept,” the recurring themes of “mortality, family, God, and independence” provide a cohesive thread, and the album’s title—lifted from a lyric inspired by an “anti-Western” movie—seems fitting.
From the first track, “Adah,” Bevan’s vocal intensity is undeniable, with a striking opening line, “Evil, all its sin is still alive.” Her impassioned delivery channels the same raw power that defined Sinéad O’Connor’s The Lion and the Cobra era, immediately drawing the listener in. Desperate Journalist have honed their ability to create maximum emotional impact using subtle chord progressions, complemented by a diverse array of instrumentation. The title track, No Hero, is a standout, demonstrating the timelessness of the guitar work associated with bands like The Smiths and The Cure.
“Comfort” is where the Behringer Poly D synth takes centre stage, blending seamlessly with the familiar ’80s guitar sounds. The electronic and guitar elements create a rich, harmonious soundscape. Bevan’s lyrics—“Out of nowhere here’s your life, brutal lows and dizzy heights”—cut deep, evoking a sense of existential discomfort despite the song’s lush production. The subsequent track, “Silent,” continues to explore darker emotional territory. With brooding basslines and lyrics about self-sabotage and loss, it captures the cyclical nature of pain and the destruction it leaves in its wake.
The album’s energy peaks with “7,” an upbeat, vivacious track that stands out as the fastest and most lively on No Hero. This momentum leads into “Unsympathetic Parts 1 & 2,” the album’s longest track at nearly six minutes. The song starts with an eerie calm before escalating into a sonic horror show, heightened by chilling lyrics like “So I’ve got this dead girl, neck broken…”. Bevan’s haunting repetition of “Un-sym-path-et-ic” feels like a ritual chant, evoking a sense of divine judgment akin to the grimmest scenes of an 18-rated Halloween movie.
Though largely unsettling, No Hero has moments of reprieve. “You Say You’re Lonely” stands out with its tranquil piano and simple, calming basslines. Yet even in this quieter moment, Bevan’s lyrics, “You think you feel it, I don’t know how you’d bear it? How could anyone bear it? You’re gonna have to bear it yourself,” remain emotionally charged, steering clear of anything resembling lightheartedness. The album’s closer, “Consolation Prize,” is a slow build of ’80s guitar intensity, leaving the listener with a final, anxiety-laden reflection: “The consolation prize a truth to bulldoze all your lies and the meaning of our lives…”
No Hero is pop without the superficial gloss, a soundscape that is both accessible and deeply unnerving. Drawing on the band’s historical influences—The Cure and The Smiths are ever-present—Desperate Journalist manage to tackle weighty, often uncomfortable subjects without falling into the trap of needing complex, sprawling arrangements. Whether this newfound energy comes from their use of the Behringer Poly D or their more collaborative working process is up for debate, but what’s clear is that No Hero is an exceptional record, offering a mix of easy listening and profound unease.
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