Heavenly isn’t the first band to have an old track mysteriously re-enter the zeitgeist via some algorithmic glitch—though it does feel surprising that it has happened to them twice in recent years, despite the British band having been on hiatus for decades. A few years ago, their anthemic single “P.U.N.K. Girl” went viral on social media; then, it was “Me and My Madness,” a deceptively cute song about self-harm and psychosis. For founding members Amelia Fletcher and Rob Pursey, the reappraisal of this material was an opportunity to fly the Heavenly banner once again, reforming to play live for a new generation of fans and to start work on their first album in 30 years.
You might connect Heavenly’s unlikely social media resurgence to the nascent twee revival led by bands like Sharp Pins and Good Flying Birds. But even during their first run, the band resisted that label, which implies a naive optimism that overshadows a key element of Heavenly’s songs: the dissonance between their adorable aesthetics and their dire subject matter. Many of their best songs, like “Hearts and Crosses,” couch dark scenes in a candy coat (in that track’s case, a jangly song about a teenage crush that becomes a harrowing depiction of sexual violence). It’s no wonder kids who’ve grown up with the gurokawa creepy-cuteness of Jack Stauber music videos, Roblox horror games starring colorful cartoon mascots, and The Amazing Digital Circus would gravitate toward this music. Highway to Heavenly, the band’s new album, highlights the emotional depth and instrumental chops that have always existed beneath the songs’ cuddly exterior.
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It’s not quite accurate to call Highway to Heavenly a comeback album; Fletcher and Pursey have never stopped making music together, beginning in the mid-’80s and continuing after Heavenly’s original run. On Heavenly’s last record, released in 1996, their daydreamy idealism had become more vulgar and concrete, and the instrumental backing had adopted a Britpop punchiness to match; however, the album was released just after drummer Mathew Fletcher’s death, leading to Heavenly’s abrupt dissolution. Highway seems to be a deliberate effort to pick up where the band left off, dialing back the guitar distortion to make space for swirling organ chords and surprisingly danceable beats. Many of the new tracks stretch out to four minutes, and the band takes full advantage of the added space with extended storytelling and hooks that rank among their best.
Take “Skep Wax,” which tells the story of the titular indie label Fletcher and Pursey founded in 2021. Each section of the track could potentially get stuck in your head for days, from its jittery verse backed by swooning vocal harmonies to the way the bridge shifts into a happy-go-lucky gallop. Ultimately, the chorus still lands on the strongest hook of the bunch, illustrating the childlike wonder Heavenly has maintained well into adulthood as Fletcher and keyboard player Cathy Rogers linger on lines about heartbreaking songs and the “shapes and colors” they conjure. It’s downright heartwarming, and the album’s clear centerpiece.
