Wallsend trio The Pale White return with The Big Sad, a self-produced second album and their first release under their label, End Of The Wall Recordings. Sonically bolder and emotionally sharper than anything they’ve released before, this record doesn’t just wear its heart on its sleeve – it rips it out and spins it on a turntable.
Despite what the title might suggest, The Big Sad is no slow drag through misery. It’s a defiant, vulnerable, and unexpectedly euphoric album that trades out distortion for clarity and posturing for emotional precision. It’s the sound of a band throwing out the rulebook and choosing honesty over aesthetics.
Lead single ‘Lost in the Moment’ sets the tone early. With a glittering nostalgia and a slow build that erupts into a towering beat drop, it’s a song that hides heartbreak under a haze of energy. Think 2000s indie anthem energy, with the emotional subtext of a 2 am overthink. It’s designed to be screamed back at a stage, fists in the air, tears optional but likely.
Elsewhere, ‘Final Exit’ carries the weight of a goodbye dressed in sunshine. It’s a closing-credits kind of track, full of longing and the kind of emotional ambiguity that hits hardest when played on a late-night train. ‘Woolly Thunder’ veers into swaggering, unexpected territory – equal parts 70s classic rock and modern melancholy, complete with a daring mid-track pause that hits like a raised eyebrow.
‘I’m Sorry’ doesn’t apologise for much. It’s raw, rough-edged, and furious, with snarling guitars wrapped around a vulnerable refrain that cuts through the noise. Its emotional contradiction is its strength. Meanwhile, ‘January, Please’ begs not just for a month, but for meaning – what or who January represents is left unsaid, but its slow build and chaotic crescendo feel like a heartbreak relived in real time.
Then comes ‘Preparing For The Big Sad’, a delicate interlude that floats like a bruise – beautiful, soft, and completely gutting. The emotional pendulum swings back hard with ‘There’s An Echo’, where the guitars reclaim the spotlight in a track made to be swallowed whole by headphones and a dark room.
Moments of light break through the fog. ‘Real Again’ stands out as a fragile triumph – brief but bright, and festival-ready. ‘Trapped in the Vacuum’ takes a wildly creative concept and wraps it in a beat that feels like growing up all over again. ‘Nostradamus’ is a swaggering time-warp of a track, while the haunted ‘Interlude’ earns its name with eerie restraint.
As the album winds to a close, ‘My Abacus’ counts down the emotions left in the tank before ‘The Big Sad’ delivers a final blow. The title track is a quiet anthem for anyone who’s ever needed permission to feel bad and keep going anyway. It’s all sharp riffs, reflective pauses, and an emotional truth bomb disguised as an indie rock finale. Not overdone, not overly clever – just painfully, perfectly real.
With The Big Sad, The Pale White don’t just reinvent themselves – they validate the listener in the process. It’s gritty, graceful, and entirely on their terms.
