Album by Rocket Rules
Dearden’s Number is a perfect blend of classic modern rock and dreamy shoegaze. Imagine if the Psychedelic Furs and Lush made an album of Love & Rockets covers.
There are clear indie pop songs underneath everything. Hooks, melodies, choruses, jangly guitars. But Rocket Rules covers them in just enough fuzz and haze to make the whole record feel slightly blurry. The vocals often sit at the same level as the guitars or even underneath them. It’s shoegaze and dream pop, but the songs never disappear inside the noise.
Underneath all that fuzz, Dearden’s Number seems to mostly be about those early stages of falling for someone. When everything feels magical and full of possibility, but there’s an anxiety that runs alongside the butterflies. A dread that once something begins, eventually it will end.
“Tiptoe” opens with the backbone of a late-80s or early-90s college radio song. The drums move, the guitars have plenty of noise around them, and Rachael Lam’s vocals are understated without getting lost. There’s a feeling of anticipation in the lyrics.
“Quicken” slows things down. The band stays restrained and hazy while Lam’s vocals have a quality that makes me think a little of Dolores O’Riordan. Then the chorus lifts without ever turning into some enormous crescendo. The song captures one of those moments you know you can never really recreate. Like waiting with bated breath for a first kiss.
“City Sleeps” has an incredibly pretty pop song sitting underneath all the haze. Where other songs seek to freeze time at the beginning of a relationship, this feels more like hoping to stave off the end of one.
“Chapel St.” sounds like a lost modern-rock hit. The guitar makes me think of Johnny Marr. There’s a clear melody and chorus in the haze. The song seems to fear growing older and isolated and the desire to chase a meaningful connection before it’s too late.
The title track is where the record starts feeling more somber. The pace slows and we sense that some of that possibility has disappeared. Now there are dreams about losing things, doubts about whether someone will stay, and the sense that something is already slipping away.
“In My Room” picks the pace back up and sounds bright enough to disguise how anxious the song actually is. There’s a fear of moving forward because moving forward means eventually having something you can lose. The music captures the excitement of falling for someone while the lyrics are already imagining what happens when it’s over.
“The Sweetest Thing” slows everything down into this gentle, almost summery melody. There’s melancholy mixed into all that sweetness as the album returns to the idea that love and happiness are fleeting.
What I love about Dearden’s Number is that the music and lyrics almost seem to be doing the same thing. Underneath all that fuzz are these incredibly catchy indie pop songs. You can hear them clearly enough to know they’re there, but everything remains slightly obscured, like looking at something beautiful through frosted glass.
The album lives in that space between anticipation and anxiety. Wanting to hold onto fleeting moments of happiness. Hoping they turn into something deeper. Knowing that if they do, you’ve suddenly created something you can lose.
And while so much of Dearden’s Number reminds me of music I loved decades ago, Rocket Rules makes a pretty convincing case that there’s still plenty of life left in these sounds.
Verdict: Great
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