The Lunar Pull: Louchecore

(self released)

CD | DL

released 3 October 2025

Martin Gray reviews the second album Louchecore from emerging Wirral-based indie pop outfit The Lunar Pull and declares it an understated triumph over all expectations.

Wirral-based indie pop quartet The Lunar Pull are something of a ‘best kept secret’ in many ways. Unlike some of the other more celebrated names that have made big strides artistically in recent years with acres of press and publicity (see The Mysterines, The Sundowners to name but two), these unassuming Merseyside songsmiths have simply focused on crafting nifty tunes and earning their stripes purely via word-of-mouth and the odd gig or two around the area.

Last year they celebrated the release of their debut album The Workings Underneath by opening for fellow Wirral kindred spirits The Boo Radleys when the latter played a hometown show – well near enough – in Liverpool to celebrate the 30th anniversary of their own mid-1990’s number 1 album Wake Up! That debut Lunar Pull album was also engineered and produced by The Boo Radleys’ Tim Brown, thus further cementing their close ties and connections with the regrouped 1990’s luminaries.

Now they’ve unleashed their second offering and it’s as good, if not even better, than their fully formed debut. Fronted by South Yorkshire-born emigre Alex Riley who has earned himself quite the reputation as a man of various talents (his CV includes TV show researcher, presenter and script writer, stand up comedian and comic sketch creator, compere and actor), the new album, Louchecore has been titled, knowingly and with much self-deprecating humour, in acknowledgment of the band’s own particular musical style (on the back cover, the word even has its alternative spelling in brackets: ‘looooshhcore’, as if we were in any doubt as to how it is pronounced!) and, in particular, Alex’s own undisputed sartorial quirkiness.

Many of these new tunes possess the same sense of evocative yearning as those on the debut, with more than a few of the numbers bringing to mind a more downbeat and resigned Squeeze (the band’s way with words in particular – recounting suburban vignettes that have an undercurrent of regret and lost opportunities – recall both Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford).

The album opener, Sheffield Education, is one such example. Over a sprightly mid-tempo arrangement, Alex Riley effectively delivers his own curious take (lyrically, that is) on fellow South Yorks icon Jarvis Cocker’s Common People – albeit in reverse image, if such a thing can be imagined. He narrates a sardonic tale about meeting a Scandinavian girl who takes a shine to him, but then finding that he is no match for her eruditeness, and lamenting his humble provincial upbringing.

Early album highlight Viking History follows, a tale of escapism of sorts which has a gorgeously lush melody in the chorus ‘We could live out in the country / somewhere we can feel free / leave this city in the rear view / and all that Viking History’ which  possesses the hallmarks of their mentors The Boo Radleys at their chamber-pop best. It’s a killer song that has me hooked straight from the off.

The inevitable Boos influence is also writ large on third track Tonight Is All That Matters, a tale of a clandestine love affair (probably) with a concluding refrain ‘I’ll be waiting here for you, when you come down….’ that – astonishingly – owes more than a passing tip of the hat to their 1991 perennial fan favourite The Finest Kiss. I wonder if this is intentional homage again? It matters little either way – when you have an opening trio as strong as this, due largely in part to the roles played by the other members of The Lunar Pull: keyboardist Tom Hutchinson, bassist Vin Woodward and guitarist Mike Corcoran who are the principal songwriters and arrangers here.

The mellow tones of the next pairing of tracks How We Got From A To B and Probably Never See You are once again pleasantly evocative earworms that somehow call to mind those mid-70s soft-rock tunes from long-forgotten bands that used to blare out of the radio during those warm balmy summer evenings of yore. These are not denigrating observations by the way, quite the contrary:  I have to confess upfront that I was a shameless admirer of some of those very same melodic ‘yacht rock’ staples during my 70s childhood before all those noisy snotty punk rock incumbents thrust their collective snarling mugs into my face and abruptly turned my cosy little world upside down like a rude awakening, leaving my musical tastes skewed and scarred forevermore.

Two slower and more reflective numbers – the touchingly brief ode to a dearly lost loved one Brother Watch Over Me and the openly confessional tear jerker Last Respects – sit back to back in the middle of the album and provide a beautifully melancholy interlude before the pace and tempo picks up slightly again with Back To The Sea and it’s at this point you realise how accomplished the songwriting really is.

The concluding trio of songs round out the album nicely. I’ve Had Enough To Drink is another of their by now signature kitchen sink numbers where the protagonist is happy to spend a romantic evening with his date imbibing nothing more addictive than Earl Grey (my assumption – as no specific preference was stipulated). Curiously, it starts like it could almost be a Richard Hawley song (there’s another Sheffield connection for you, arf!) in the way Alex sings the title unaccompanied. It’s short and sweet for sure.

‘Is it all a dream….and we’re acting out the scenes?….Is this all a dream?’ Alex enquires on penultimate number All A Dream, which, lyrically at least, could be an allusion – metaphorically or otherwise – on the current state of mankind’s relationship with nature and thus a relative anomaly here subject-wise via its subtle eco-environmental analogy. This is further tellingly emphasised in the nagging refrain ‘Wake up…wake them up…..I’ve got to wake up and breathe….’

Album closers usually come in two distinct forms: either they’re all-guns-a-blazing final valedictory sign-offs performed like the artists’ lives depended on it, or they are, conversely, showstopping smoochers or ballads heavy on the melodrama and pathos. Turn On The Disco Lights falls decisively in the latter category. Shades / hints of Morrissey (as he was at his most maudlin and bittersweet during his heyday) and also Richard Hawley – him again! – permeate this sublime slow waltz where the world-weary sighing of the narrator laments the ignominy of having almost empty pockets and being down to the last tin of beans but implores his lover to share one final shimmy with him regardless of what fate throws at them, declaring that love will conquer all: ‘Every day I fall in love with you over again’.

It’s an unabashed and self-deprecating scenario of fading suburban decadence painted via mellow guitar strums, soft piano chords and a lonely trumpet filtering in during the middle – and a truly touching note on which to close out a genuinely lovely set of songs.

What I have found most encouraging about The Lunar Pull is that they have only released two albums so far – in the space of just over a year – and for them to sound like they’ve been doing this for much longer is testimony to how well-crafted both these records are. 2024’s debut The Workings Underneath already showed huge promise, and on this second album, they have already built upon that and surpassed it.

For The Lunar Pull, the future surely looks bright, if not necessarily orange (on second thoughts, perish the very notion!). This is a full harvest moon which you’re going to wish could last for more than a few hours. Gravitate to them and embrace them like your latest best friend.

Listen to Louchecore by The Lunar Pull here on YouTube:

 

Music by The Lunar Pull can be purchased on their Bandcamp page.

Follow and support The Lunar Pull on social media.

All words by Martin Gray

More lunatic witterings by Martin can be found on his profile here.