With Catfish and the Bottlemen’s very existence now hanging in the balance, the reckless, beautiful tenacity of their 2014 debut record ‘The Balcony’ stands as the holdover fire of a once-bulletproof band identity.

Stream: ‘The Balcony’ – Catfish and the Bottlemen

Van McCann was 21 years old when he told us he, and the band he named after an Australian street performer, were always gonna change. It was the start of Catfish and the Bottlemen’s ten-year reign over alternative rock, and the end of their seaside Llandudno beginnings – with the summer 2014 departure of lead guitarist Billy Bibby, the characteristic lineup of frontman McCann, guitarist Johnny Bond, bassist Benji Blakeway and drummer Bob Hall magnetized, just in time for the unveiling of their debut record, The Balcony, that fall.

The Balcony wasn’t an album title so much as a location, the same way U2’s The Joshua Tree plants you in a desert oasis where the sun’s so bright, it leaves no shadows. In setting their Island Records introduction up, the band provided a physical meeting ground; it was as if McCann was letting you know this was where Catfish and the Bottlemen would reside for the next couple of years, should you choose to join them for a smoke. “I think [the balcony is] a really imaginative place,” McCann said in 2014. “I envision nighttime and skyscrapers and looking over the world and this size, this hugeness.”

Tim Lahan created the album’s artwork, a piece originally titled “Beautiful Decay,” which portrayed an outline of a couple with their hands down each other’s pants. It graced the cover of 2009’s Poetry & Fuel too, but when the EP failed to drum up any acclaim, they figured a redo was in order. “The EP did nothing,” McCann went on to say. “It didn’t even hit the edges of where we wanted to be, so we used it as a little nod to all the fans who’ve been there since day one.”

Beyond acting as a show of their perseverance, the monochrome cover delivered yet another home base, this time lyrically. Anyone picking it up at Urban Outfitters alongside Arctic Monkeys’ AM and The 1975’s self-titled knew there was something sordid promised between the lines – something about making a mess and tearing off clothes and begging to be exhausted. This was an album with a head full of filth, and it’s not as if you didn’t notice.

Now, McCann was the first to admit their first full-length wasn’t revolutionary. The intro of “Cocoon” was ripped from Stereophonics’ “The Bartender And The Thief,” and its ending was a playground for live Springsteen adlibs; “Kathleen” spoke of drug dealers and chests full of heartache; “Hourglass” was just him and an acoustic guitar, singing from the perspective of his yearning girlfriend. But he wasn’t pretending to be anything other than a horny guitarist, either.

The frontman was happy scraping together a Venn diagram of sex and love and seeing what he could compose with those two subjects as his main muses, understanding that the faceless lovers on the cover would know who they were when they got a hold of the album. So, 11 tales of earnestness and clumsy, unforgettable love ensued, everything else be damned.

The Balcony opened with “Homesick,” as did many of their live sets pre-2019. “I’m not the type to call you up drunk / But I’ve got some lies to tell,” McCann admitted, shielding his heart with a click of the tongue at the end of “drunk,” like that was the lie in question. Hall accompanied McCann’s black Telecaster with a clock-like tick, before the song exploded into a melodramatic thunderstorm of he said, she said.

It was clear McCann was writing from a place of naivety, but that was what sold the record. So when “Kathleen,” The Balcony’s second track emerged, it was that much easier to smile at his use of the words “simpatico” and “acquiesce,” because we’ve all crossed paths with someone who’s cuts above, and run our mouths vying for their attention.

It’s impractical to go out and catch a death
With a dress fit for the summer, so you don’t
Instead you call me up with a head full of filth, and
Yes, I know that I’ll never acquiesce anything you’re thinking
But let me know when I’m needed home

– “Kathleen,” Catfish and the Bottlemen

“Living in Llandudno, it’s such a small town. You kind of just hear good songs when you’re at the bar,” McCann told Steve Lamacq at the time of the album’s release. “I’m always writing little one-liners people say to me on my phone when they’re drunk, so they’re all true stories.” That was the case with the record’s third track, “Cocoon,” a “two fingers up to the world” which derived from the coattailing McCann experienced from loved ones at the start of the band’s steady rise to fame. “F* it if they talk / f* it if they try and get to us,” he sang, “I’d rather go blind than let you down.”

McCann explored the ‘right person, wrong time’ trope with “Fallout” – or, if his story wasn’t sarcastic, the time their manager literally left him in Leeds. It featured the now-iconic “test tube baby” line, once again taken from his actual life. After all, The Oxford Student once praised Catfish as offering “scruffy love songs from a test tube baby,” and “scruffy” stuck as a defining adjective through The Balcony’s promotional run.

Then arrived “Pacifier,” a track certified gold in the UK and more broadly praised by fans for its singalong choruses and soaring guitars. The single ushered in a multitude of now iconic live renditions, from a rainy Glastonbury 2015 appearance to being included in the band’s 1 Mic 1 Take videos alongside “Kathleen” and “Cocoon” that same year.

No song represented the group’s acoustic sensibilities better than “Hourglass,” the inelegant yet sincere love declaration set to tape rather spontaneously — contrasted by the searing “Pacifier,” its tenderness was especially effective. “Offer my hand and I’ll take your name / Share my shower, kiss my frame,” McCann sang, “Cause I wanna carry all of your children / And I wanna call them stupid shit.” The words “stupid shit” felt like the moment you’re pulled out of tears and into laughter, still weighed with emotion but suddenly lightened by the unseriousness of it all. Things really are that intense, but that doesn’t stop them from being funny. McCann hit that target with a wink and a nod.

And I’m so impatient when you’re not mine
I just wanna catch up on all the lost times
And I’ll say I’m sorry if I sound sordid
‘Cause all I really ever want is you

– “Hourglass,” Catfish and the Bottlemen

The next track, “Business” was a little raunchier, but just as strikingly honest. “I’ve no time for your friends / Who can f*in’ do one,” McCann dismissed, recommending he and the subject get drunk and smoke instead. Its bridge was plucked from “Broken Army,” deviating slightly from the earlier track but nevertheless embodying it, while “26” followed at full throttle. That with “Rango” as its successor proved an especially upbeat three-song run, and on the latter McCann yet again expressed his frustration at the small-town drama he found himself on the outskirts of: “Although this town does plot much thicker stories than I care to talk / You, you’ve ducked them in style / And I’ve always loved you for that.”

Though it was considered a more mindlessly-written track, “Sidewinder,” tucked rather humbly away in the latter half of the album, introduced fans to the thundering yet harmonic lead guitar that would come to define Bibby’s style of playing. It was a role Bond took over seamlessly upon his quitting, eventually lending his own flair to 2016’s The Ride and 2019’s The Balance by incorporating elements of roots, progressive rock, and even passing glimpses of glam.

Usually approaching the ten-minute mark in its live versions, album-closer “Tyrants” was originally written when McCann was just 14 years old, and went on to singularly define the band’s debut era in terms of sonic bravery and structural unpredictability. It cut out mid-note, setting the precedent for the finales on the following two albums, as “Outside” and “Overlap” would both follow in their unexplained, somewhat jarring endings – the same kind of ending fans would experience when the band took an unexplained hiatus following The Balance’s tour cycle in 2019.

Eyes rolled back, guess we were living fast
Where did you go, yeah where did you go?
Your eyes go to show
That it was so rare to see you sober
So the streetlights would carry us home

– “Tyrants,” Catfish and the Bottlemen

It’s possible that right after The Balcony is where a rut began. Upon first listen, The Ride manifested as a carbon copy of its predecessor. Catfish and the Bottlemen’s most common critique lived in that same vein for years – lukewarm album reviews imputed guilt on the four-piece for sticking to the formula, regardless of how successful it was the first time around. The only element that immediately distinguished their 2016 sophomore record was the fact that they were now writing from, and about, the road.

Pay another visit to songs like “Postpone” and “Anything,” however, and you’ll hear Bond pushing gently against the inner walls of the box McCann intended for them to reside in. You’ll hear atmospheric pleas for expansion – you’ll hear a second creative identity emerge, in an ecosystem built quite intentionally for one. Simply put, Bond’s influence could have augmented their sound, but it was always put in check by a rhythmic counterpart hellbent on completing a pre-planned trilogy of records.

McCann was the band’s singular voice, their director, their cheerleader of seismic proportions, for years. He doubled down incessantly on the fact that at any given moment, he had hundreds of songs prepared for a multitude of upcoming albums. From before The Balcony was unleashed, The Ride and The Balance existed – their bones, at least – lying in wait, only spaced out to adhere to the typical album/tour cycle placed upon working bands.

Still, there were hints all along that a hiatus or permanent breakup was on the way. During The Ride’s press cycle, McCann said that they had “another album to go” and two years of touring when that was unveiled – that lined up almost identically with how The Balance’s release panned out. They went silent for a couple years after that, in part due to COVID-19. So when lockdown ended and their scheduled appearances at Cardiff’s Principality Stadium finally seemed doable from a safety standpoint, it came as a shock when the band pulled suddenly out of the shows.

When they returned in late 2023 with newly-added dates and a single a few months later, fans were skeptical of their staying power, given their pattern of canceling gigs without official statements or explanations. But “Showtime” was inarguably a badass first track back, equipped with a video using what appeared to be old footage compiled with forward-focused lyrics and sentiments. McCann seemingly sang of his decision to continue on with the band, and the fact that it could very well have turned out differently.

You know my timing’s impeccable
Still got through, you know
Could have called it a night,
but there’s too much fight in that heart
Get your mind right now,
‘cause we’re both just about to start

Though they queued up a hefty list of worldwide dates to be played in the coming months, fans began receiving emails in late August that the US and AUS tours were canceled due to medical reasons, sending the shaky fate of the band (and discussions surrounding their reliability) back to the forefront. The 2025 stadium UK dates remained unaffected, but even so – how does a band make such a triumphant comeback, and then backpedal it entirely?

Looking at Catfish’s return from a cultural perspective, it appears they’re approaching things with a level of earned anonymity. Having given every interview and played every club and stadium in numerous countries, drumming up interest isn’t of concern, because it’s already there. Fans are waiting. Magazines are surely scuffling for the big tell-all. No matter how many times they cancel or otherwise back off of appearances, the allure persists, only furthered by their unwillingness to feed into or stave off rumors.

Fans had a few chances to catch the band before the September cancellations occurred, of course. They delivered a few massive festival appearances in late summer to work up excitement for their forthcoming fourth studio record, said to be recorded in Los Angeles with producer Dave Sardy. Whether that album really is en route is questionable, but one thing is clear: the band that releases it will be vastly different – as they should be, and as life goes – from the four young, scruffy guys who recorded The Balcony in an effort to escape small-town mentalities and create something bigger than themselves.

“I want to put something out that in 10 years you listen back to and you go, ‘You know what? I remember this. This was a great record at the time,” McCann said of The Balcony in 2014. A decade later, he finished their 2024 Reading headlining set with a solo rendition of “Cocoon,” assuring with a weathered voice that he’d still rather go blind than let us down.

With his guitar in the air and eyes bolted shut, he let a crowd of tens of thousands make the promise to one another, until the song reached its natural end and he walked offstage with a proud grin. Maybe that’s the point – maybe what Catfish and the Bottlemen leaves us with, as they always have, is a fleeting kiss and a laugh as they turn wordlessly away.

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Watch: “Cocoon” – Catfish and the Bottlemen

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 © 2015

The Balcony

an album by Catfish and the Bottlemen