Waterslide Diving Board Ladder To The Sky (Green Edition) (Vinyl)

When Porridge Radio’s Dana Margolin, one of the most vital new voices in rock, began to consider the themes of their new album, three vivid words emerged: joy, fear and endlessness. She had called the band’s third full-length, Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky, an image that’s partly inspired by a collage by the surrealist artist Eileen Agar, and evokes the ducks and dives, slippery slopes and existential angst of life. But Dana was also drawn to the story of Jacob’s Ladder from the Old Testament which, “symbolises the ups and downs of human life, of virtue and sin,” she explains. This idea that no one emotional state is binary came like a lightning bolt. “Within this album the feelings of joy, fear and endlessness coexist together,” says Dana. That mix of emotions has defined Porridge Radio’s past two years to say the least. It’s a strange sensation, becoming a breakthrough band who are breathlessly championed by every major music site, without being able to experience any of it in the real world. When they released their 2020 album Every Bad, they were about to fly to South By Southwest, support Car Seat Headrest across the States, and then tear up the festival circuit back home. But it was all cancelled due to the pandemic. In spite of that, they’ve managed to become one of the UK’s most thrilling acts, from DIY darlings to a Mercury-nominated tour de force in the space of less than a year. Perhaps that’s because their barbed wit, lacerating intensity and potent blend of art-rock, indie-pop and post-punk sounds like little else around. For Dana and drummer Sam Yardley, keyboardist Georgie Stott and bassist Maddie Ryall – who met in Brighton and formed a band in 2014 – global recognition had been a long time coming, after years of booking their own tours and self-releasing their music. But in some ways, Dana welcomed the pause. She had been struggling to reconcile the lo-fi Dana of the Brighton scene with Bona Fide Indie Star Dana, hurtling into a new league – not only a musician but an artist in every sense, who has painted all three of Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky’s expressive covers. Suddenly, there were magazine covers instead of fanzines. Then lockdown landed. “It's actually terrifying to be seen,” she says. “I was having panic attacks all the time, because I was aware of being perceived in a new way.” Margolin was quickly becoming regarded as one of the most magnetic band leaders around with an ability to “devastate you with an emotional hurricane, then blindside you with a moment of bittersweet humour” (NME). But if Every Bad established Dana’s bravery in laying herself bare, her band’s third record takes that to anthemic new heights. Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky is the sound of someone in their late twenties thrashing out how they feel during these confusing, frustrating, stop-start years, facing down the disappointment of love, and life, and figuring out how to exist in the world, without claiming any answers. Dana’s songwriting and delivery is more confident, with the emotional incisiveness of artists like Mitski, Sharon Van Etten and Big Thief. While there are moments of guttural release, she also finds soft power on songs like the piano-led ‘Flowers’ and the closing title track, where she sings over an acoustic guitar. “I used to think I had to be loud to be heard,” she admits, “but now I’m definitely less afraid of being gentle.” Thematically, Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky is as unwavering as ever. Existential dread, death, health anxiety, loneliness and the comfort of connection are wrangled with. Dana’s streams of consciousness turn the mirror, often unflatteringly, on her weaknesses and she attempts to take ownership of her “bad habits”. “I’m embarrassed by how vicious I can be sometimes,” she admits. The songs have a physicality about them, a fleshy rawness, but they’re also open to risk, dealing with the powerful catharsis that occurs when you allow the full intensity of an experience to take hold – perhaps something that we instinctively resist.