There’s something unmistakably British about, Around the Blocks, by Giant Killers. Not in a stiff-upper-lip or an overly sentimental kind of way, but in the unpretentious, beautifully mundane sense of small-town life it so vividly captures. It feels like the sort of song that could only have been born on this side of the Atlantic, steeped in a culture that has long mastered the art of understatement and self-deprecation. The lyrics aren’t just observational; they’re precise, capturing the essence of growing up in places often overlooked—the small, liminal towns where life happens in quiet ways.
It’s not that artists from other countries don’t write about these kinds of experiences. But there’s a particular subtlety here, a sense that Giant Killers are intentionally keeping things small. While American storytellers might dress up the suburban experience with a layer of ambition, romanticizing it, Giant Killers do the opposite. They keep it ordinary, almost defiantly so, as if to say, “This is what life is—take it or leave it.”
Musically, the song mirrors this lyrical modesty. The jangling guitars don’t soar, they ebb and flow like the gentle rhythms of everyday life. There are no grand crescendos or dramatic shifts—just a steady pulse that feels reassuring in its constancy. It’s a reflection of the very lives being depicted: neither explosive nor understated, but somewhere in between, where most of us live.
Alongside, Around the Blocks, the single offers two more tracks that reinforce this small-town narrative. Normal Service (Will Not Be Resumed), is another window into these parochial, often stifling environments, this time with a darker undertone. Delivered in hushed tones, it feels like eavesdropping on private dramas playing out behind net curtains. Even its most “anthemic” moments, if you can call them that, feel restrained—like a secret shared in whispers rather than a shouted declaration.
Then there’s the live rendition of, Fighting In The High Street, recorded at Bristol’s The Louisiana back in 1996. For anyone familiar with the venue, it’s the perfect setting for a song like this—intimate, raw, and brimming with authenticity. Lyrically, it echoes the storytelling prowess of bands like Del Amitri or The Liberty Horses, capturing the kind of everyday poetry that doesn’t try to be anything more than what it is. It’s the kind of song that could easily soundtrack a Shane Meadows or Ken Loach film, where the lives of ordinary people are given the cinematic treatment they deserve.
What sets Giant Killers apart is their ability to tap into these ordinary lives with a sense of clarity and purpose. There’s no pretence here, no attempt to make the small-town experience seem more glamorous than it is. But in their hands, it’s not dreary either. It’s real, rich with detail and emotion, and told with a voice that feels deeply, distinctly British.
Listen here:
Comments