By the time Blur were excoriating the repressed English middle class, they had already flung themselves beyond it, riding high as their records bounded up the UK charts. So, too, had Oasis, who weaponized their working-class Mancunian street cred against the quasi-posh art school boys in Blur. Whether the subject was a disgruntled civil servant or low-life pleasures, Britpop is eternally bound up in UK class tensions. Despite their deep roots in the UK hardcore scene, London five-piece High Vis draw upon that long tradition. On their third record, Guided Tour, they present a rousing Britpop manifesto that transmutes grime and drudgery into raw-nerved power ballads.
Though his bandmates—bassist Jack Muncaster, guitarists Martin MacNamara and Rob Hammaren, and drummer Edward “Ski” Harper—hail from all corners of the UK and Ireland, High Vis frontman Graham Sayle grew up in a working-class family in northwest England. On the group’s song “0151,” he sang about his late uncle, a former shipyard worker and union member who died of asbestosis. “You’ll live and die on the banks of the Mersey,” he sang, admonishing the “suffеring sold as pride” he witnessed while living in a town affected by Margaret Thatcher’s “managed decline.” High Vis’ first two albums—2019’s No Sense No Feeling and Blending, from 2022—were as scuffed and battered as the subjects they approached.
Producer Jonah Falco, who manned the decks on Blending, and has sculpted UK punk records by Chisel and Chubby and the Gang, deserves some credit for the rattling joy that propels Guided Tour. But much of this blinding High Vis glow radiates from the bandmates’ personal triumphs. Multiple members quit their day jobs to pursue music full-time. Sayle kicked booze, got married, and stuck with therapy. High Vis are still pragmatists, though, and even a song titled “Feeling Bless” is tempered by drab images of “metallic smoke” and “killing dreams by Clipper light.” Sayle doesn’t ascribe his blessed existence to any higher purpose, claiming that “luck or fate” are equally viable explanations.
The rapture, then, is largely instrumental. “Feeling Bless” is a high-elevation anthem that soars on gusts of reverb and rock-god guitar. Sayle’s sober vignettes reveal his matter-of-fact grip on the world, but it’s gratifying enough to lean back and let the massive chorus and Sayle’s stretched-out Scouse accent wash over you. The title track is just as exultant, sharing DNA with Leisure-era Blur and, dare I say, the early work of stadium denizens U2. “Guided Tour” churns to jangly, high-tone guitar and toms with the wallop of Doc Martens on pavement. Sayle’s opening cry—“You’re desperate to feel more/For once in your life”—could be the driving desire behind all of High Vis’ music: the search for something gilded amid the scrap heap.
For all of the massive hooks and beaming melodies, High Vis don’t completely tear up their hardcore CVs. Sayle shouts more than sings on the muscular “Drop Me Out” and “Mob DLA,” both weighted with doomy rhythm guitar and battered drums. He wrote “Mob DLA” in response to the labyrinthine bureaucracy guarding disability resources (Sayle has witnessed his brother, who lives with autism and cerebral palsy, struggle within the system for years). “Drop Me Out” deals in shared trauma and broken loyalty: “Can’t pick your mates, or your co-defendants,” Sayle belts, as fuzzed-out rhythm guitar chugs underneath. His seemingly glib nod to meeting “for an RIP”—referring to friends he only sees at other friends’ funerals—suggests this happens far more often than it should.
But even in all this despair, High Vis toss in a life-affirming chorus here, a radiant solo there: something to grab onto against the threat of sinking. They’ve managed to smuggle working-class subject matter into grand, gleaming Britpop without sacrificing their hardcore ethos or the scrappy hope that keeps them in forward motion. So it’s especially exciting that Guided Tour’s best song veers in yet another direction. Lead single “Mind’s a Lie” takes a cue from house and trip-hop, bobbing to a laid-back sample by South London DJ and singer Ell Murphy. Harper sent the initial demo to Sayle, unsure of its place in High Vis’ catalog. “We just sort of pushed it,” Sayle told NME of the writing process. It’s an effortless fit; the rolling bassline and four-on-the-floor kick nod to Sayle and Harper’s pre-punk years, when they were deep into jungle and techno. Rather than dusting off a relic of the past, High Vis retool it to serve who they have become.
