Some debut albums ease you in gently. Version of Life, the first full-length record from Radiola, does the opposite. It drops you onto unsteady ground, pulls the floor away a few times, and only then, once you’ve stopped expecting it, lets you settle into something warm, melodic and deeply human. It’s a record about the versions of ourselves we try on, the ones that eventually fall apart, and the love and trust that keep us standing when they do. For a band that has spent more than a decade earning its stripes on stages from Toronto to Glasgow, it feels less like an introduction and more like a statement of intent.
At the heart of Radiola is Dave Muir, the band’s songwriter, producer, vocalist and guitarist, whose vision shapes the album from its first bar to its last. His raw, emotive voice gives the record its emotional center, while the rest of the lineup brings real muscle and texture to the songs: James “Jimi” Cooper on lead guitar, Johnny Patrick on drums and Matt Lewis on bass. Together, the four-piece move with ease between post-punk drive, country rock warmth, stadium-sized choruses and long, drone-heavy passages that drift toward psychedelia. What holds it all together is a strong sense of melody and a band that clearly knows how to play off one another.
The journey begins with “This Song Is False,” a striking and deliberately confounding opener that recalls the restless experimentalism of Radiohead in their Kid A era. Rather than offering a neat first impression, it invites listeners into a world where nothing is quite what it seems. That uncertain path slowly disintegrates into “I Am a Neutral,” a driving post-punk anthem with the nervy propulsion of Joy Division and the modern bite of Fontaines D.C. It’s the kind of track that may leave first-time listeners slightly confused but undeniably exhilarated, and eager to hear it again.
The first moment of real stillness arrives with “Wild Things (Let Your Hair Down),” a beautiful meditation on the fragility of life that carries some of the late-night tenderness of Glasgow’s own The Blue Nile. After the restless energy of the opening stretch, it feels like stepping onto solid ground, and it marks the point where the album begins to breathe. From here, Radiola relax and reveal just how strong their melodic instincts are, delivering a run of songs that sound like pop classics in the making and sit comfortably alongside the timeless guitar pop of Teenage Fanclub and The Coral.
Leading that run is the single “This Is What We Get (For Falling in Love).” Built around raw, emotive vocals and subtle country rock touches reminiscent of Wilco and The Jayhawks, the track digs into an uncomfortable truth about relationships: real intimacy has a way of exposing our worst sides. Yet the song doesn’t stop at the damage. It turns toward forgiveness, and the idea that forgiveness is what keeps love alive. It’s honest, grown-up songwriting wrapped around a hook that refuses to leave your head.
That mix of tension and tenderness runs through the album’s lyrics. One standout passage captures a couple locked in conflict without ever fully understanding it: “We were a war, a broken chord / We were a war but we didn’t know what we were fighting for.” Elsewhere, Muir finds steadiness and hope even in the middle of decay, singing “Some shackles rust, / Masts turn to dust / But I trust / That our love won’t break.”
Side two opens with “No Wasted Kiss,” a big, stadium-ready rocker that builds and crashes like a tidal wave before finally washing up on a safe shore, channeling the widescreen sweep of The War on Drugs and the arena-sized ambition of Simple Minds. It’s one of the album’s most immediate moments and a clear sign of how comfortably Radiola can fill a large room. Then comes the album’s centerpiece and its boldest move: the epic title track. Across its 13-minute runtime, “Version of Life” crackles and rattles with uncertainty, beginning as a hushed lament before swelling into a crescendo of sonic drones worthy of Spiritualized and My Bloody Valentine, then shifting into an instrumental coda with an unmistakable nod to The Stone Roses. It’s patient, ambitious and genuinely breathtaking, the work of a band entirely confident in its own skin, and it rewards anyone willing to listen closely with nothing else to distract them.
The title track is also where the album’s central idea comes into sharpest focus. “This version has stopped making sense / From this room there’s no self defence,” Muir sings, capturing the feeling of a life that no longer adds up. And few moments on the record land harder than its quiet, heartbreaking image of being left behind: “And when you find yourself, think of us / I’ll be waiting on the shelf / Just a cracked stone filling with dust.”
What really sets Radiola’s writing apart is the way it balances heavy themes with vivid, unexpected imagery and a streak of dark wit. A line like “Cherry blossom roadkill litters the only road / You broke it, you take it home” is beautiful, unsettling and memorable all at once, while “Show me your nightmares, I’ll make it my goal / To make them come true and to fill in the hole” carries a wry edge that keeps listeners on their toes. These are songs about real relationships in all their mess, and they never pretend otherwise.
The confidence on display across Version of Life is backed by years of hard-earned live experience. In 2014, Radiola crossed the Atlantic to play two showcase sets at NXNE in Toronto, one of North America’s best-known new music festivals. In 2018, they played a sold-out BBC Introducing show at Glasgow’s legendary King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, the venue famous for launching some of the biggest names in British music. They also took to the main stage of the ABC Glasgow as finalists in the Scotland and North Soundwaves music competition, and in 2020 they released two singles with Animal Farm Records, building the momentum that has now carried them to this debut.
Version of Life is a record that refuses to play it safe. It begins in confusion, travels through post-punk thrills, fragile reflection and warm, country-tinged pop, and closes with one of the boldest finales you’re likely to hear on a first album this year. For listeners who love the art-rock adventure of Radiohead, the post-punk urgency of Joy Division, the melodic charm of Teenage Fanclub or the looser, dreamier side of the Stone Roses, it’s a record well worth getting lost in.
Version of Life by Radiola is out now. Follow the band on Instagram and visit their official website for more.
