FIKA RECORDINGS 23rd January 2026
Eleven sardonic snippets of daily life that will chime with every adult in the country, whether that is the band’s native Scotland or the wider UK. From the pain of making small talk to dealing with big rugby boys at school to the smothering love and frustration of babies.
Siblings David and Katie Pope distil the essence of diurnal coping and laughing at yourself into snappy ditties with natty tunes from the band in the eternal indie style of C81 and beyond. David does the words, Katie does the singing, and the band make great pop around it. Out of Glasgow and Motherwell, the mix of self-deprecating insight and determination to carry on despite daily disappointments is practically a defining national characteristic.
Amidst the jangling indie are some lovely tunes from the band as a whole. ‘Drinking On A Weeknight’ has a Velvet Underground bassline along with a plaintive horn part as the lyrics dig into the self-agonising about popping open a bottle of wine on an evening – “ever get the feeling / that you’re disappearing / drinking on a weeknight / well, it’s been a long day”. It’s an affecting bittersweet catalogue of regrets and everyday disappointments. “Every day’s a shite-er / time to get back on the meds / things will soon get better”. Witty asides, like that song having a bit of Wilson, Keppel and Betty’s Sand Dance in it, add a smile. Or dropping ‘Sunshine Supernova’ into a song as an antithesis.
A highlight is the celebration of geekiness, ‘The Day We Missed The Train’, about not being at a party, reading the NME, going to the chip shop and measuring your teenage life against CSI on the TV. “Other kids were running wild / but you were meek and I was mild” “Tramps like us were born to stay”. It brings a rueful and loving smile. The album is packed with great lines and couplets. “Prepare for disappointment and you won’t be disappointed”. “If it feels good, don’t do it”. “I had a boyfriend / he was a bellend / chucked me for my best friend”.
The band used to record DIY – bedrooms, living rooms, and the occasional toilet. Thanks to some grant funding from Creative Scotland, this gets a proper studio workout and it sounds good. Katie Pope provides the cover painting, Motherwell Train Station; an ordinary, boring place that speaks to the subject matter of the songs. But train stations are a gateway to somewhere else, a horizon beckoning, thanks to the self-awareness here. This set of songs mines a great tradition of British miserabilism; like The Smiths with a smile; a sense that things are as bad as they seem but we can laugh at them and that makes it all worthwhile.
Ross McGibbon