Porridge Radio Take a Leap of Faith on Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky

For Brighton four-piece Porridge Radio, the fate of their sophomore album, Every Bad, was uncertain upon release. Just look at its March 13, 2020, street date and it’s obvious why one would worry about it being lost amidst the social upheaval. Fortunately, Every Bad was an album remarkable enough to break through the noise with some noise of its own: It established Porridge Radio as a deeply gifted band on the come-up. Led by Dana Margolin and composed of Georgie Stott, Sam Yardley and Maddie Ryall, they went from making a soft, subtle Bandcamp indie to building massive, vociferous slacker-rock songs. Their music is frenetic and unpredictable, melodic despite its cacophonous arrangements. Margolin’s voice, dark and powerful, is more often than not being pushed to the edges of its range, strained as though she’s trying to get every last drop of emotion out of each word she screams. As the record played and each song ended with growing chaos and incendiary performances, one could only speculate what power the next track would hold. It’s fair to wonder the same about a follow-up. When you come out swinging like Porridge Radio had, how long before you run out of steam? Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky, the band’s third album, sees them sidestep the trap that question contains. Waterslide is a masterpiece, finding Porridge Radio, and Margolin especially, in an elevated state. They’re eager to embrace uncertainty, leveling up in every regard, sacrificing none of the intensity that made them stand out.

Part of what makes Waterslide so captivating is that it reminds you what genuine progress looks like: So much of it feels like it would have been unachievable for the band we met two years ago. On songs like “Flowers” and “Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky,” they shed their fierce appearance, exposing their soft side. On the former, Margolin croons over piano chords about a relationship that just won’t end, no matter how much it needs to. The heavy reliance on piano and violin lets the song find a balance between The Fray-style adult contemporary and the artful expressionism of Fiona Apple. You get the sense they’d succeed even if they tilted more towards just one of those extremes. The record’s title track is the smallest thing they’ve made in years; quiet strums of the acoustic guitar close out this wild and unpredictable record, and Margolin walks us through each of the three components of its name. The waterslide symbolizes joy and the diving board fear. The last part, the ladder to the sky, is a metaphor for endlessness. The three together convey an album that wrestles with the good, the bad, and the vastness of our lives.

If Margolin sounds overwhelmed, it’s only natural. The band doesn’t just try their hand at making downcast songs, though: Several moments find them reimagining the ways they can craft something upbeat and loud. Single “The Rip” is the closest they’ve ever come to a pop hit, with the band admitting to some Charli XCX influence on it. Its refrain of “and now my heart aches” is plain-spoken and works perfectly as a hook. While it starts as a pulsating proto-pop song, it turns on a dime into slow, writhing psych-rock. It would sound made up on the spot if it weren’t so meticulous. On “Trying,” the group make something that, were it not for their signature frayed edges and guitar feedback, could have been written by anyone from Big Thief to Fleetwood Mac to Florence + The Machine. Its arcane lyrics that touch on themes of forbidden knowledge aren’t new for the band, who often seem to sing in riddles—what is new here is the more traditional rock song structure. “Trying” sways back and forth, its melody almost hypnotizing you to do the same. It’s some of the easiest listening Porridge Radio have ever offered up.