Shaking Hand arrive with their self-titled debut already in motion. No big intro, no volume for volume’s sake. Just three people who’ve spent enough time in a room together to know when not to push. George Hunter sings and plays guitar, Freddie Hunter handles drums, Ellis Hodgkiss is on bass. They keep things tight and narrow, guitars spinning out in thin lines that rarely explode into full distortion. Most of the time they just hover, like they’re deciding whether to tip over or pull back.
The band clearly know their Women and early Sonic Youth, maybe some Slint too, but they’re not doing covers or cosplay. It’s more like shared DNA. The guitars argue without resolving much, riffs stretch until they almost fray, then snap back into place before things fall apart completely. George’s vocals sit low in the mix, drifting in and out like he’s not always sure you need to hear him clearly. Lyrics come through as fragments, repeating phrases that sound good more than they explain anything. It works. Clarity would probably wreck the vibe anyway.
Every song here feels like it’s teetering on the edge of collapse but never actually tips. Rhythms lock in just enough to hold everything together. Even Up the Antelupe, which almost sounds optimistic, carries this strain underneath, like moving forward costs something. The band seem fine letting that tension sit there. No peaks designed to punctuate anything, no obvious release valves.
David Pye’s production keeps it all feeling physical and present. This was tracked in real rooms with real bleed, imperfections left alone because they add texture. You can hear the band making decisions as they play. It suits the material, grounds it in something tactile. Sometimes though, the restraint tests your patience. Songs circle ideas without committing, deliberately avoiding resolution in ways that might frustrate as much as intrigue.
In For a… Pound! breaks the pattern closest. Its stop-start build finally gives way to something heavier, guitars grinding toward a more forceful ending that feels earned because the tension actually tips into friction for once. The nine-minute closer Cable Ties goes the opposite route, tightening into claustrophobic weight that never lifts. It just holds you there until it’s done.
This fits with what’s happening in UK guitar music right now, bands like Black Country, New Road or Ulrika Spacek treating songs as evolving objects instead of fixed forms. But Shaking Hand keep the drama small, the stakes personal and local. These songs sound like they were made in spaces stuck between decay and renewal, nothing finished, nothing abandoned.
The album rewards attention but doesn’t beg for it. You have to sit with uncertainty, notice small shifts instead of waiting for a big moment that never comes. Whether that feels precise or just withholding depends entirely on your patience. What’s clear is the band know exactly what they’re doing, what they want to hold back, and why.
Shaking Hand is out now on Melodic.
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