On Cannonball, the debut album from London art-rock sextet Man/Woman/Chainsaw, the band fully embraces the compelling fracture their name implies. In early press statements, guitarist and singer Billy Ward noted the group’s fascination with musical “chaos,” specifically the desire to straddle the line between the pretty and the noisy. The resulting record is a testament to that ambition, cartwheeling from ultra-sweet pop balladry to proggy chamber-pop and aggressive post-punk clatter. While these tonal shifts might initially induce whiplash, the band treats each disparate facet of their sound with such equal reverence that the listener is quickly invited to relish the disorientation.
The ensemble—comprised of Ward, singer-bassist Vera Leppänen, singer-keyboardist Emmie-Mae Avery, violinist Clio Starwood, drummer Lola Cherry, and guitarist Billy Doyle—has spent years refining this anarchic recipe. Having emerged as a fixture of the local DIY scene alongside experimental peers, the band has successfully translated the promise of their 2024 EP Eazy Peazy into a more cohesive, high-intensity full-length experience. Cannonball stretches their unpredictability further, imbuing every track with greater color and sonic depth.
While the band initially toyed with the idea of a record filled exclusively with high-octane bangers, they wisely recalibrated to allow space for their more sensitive, introspective side. The album opener, “Only Girl,” serves as a perfectly crafted pop tune, anchored by Avery’s snappy piano work and Starwood’s sweeping violin counter-melodies. Leppänen’s vocal performance here captures the raw, lump-in-your-throat rush of new love with startling clarity. This vulnerability is balanced by the album’s closer, “Something Else to Give,” an angsty, immersive composition that builds to a jaw-dropping crescendo of strings and stacked group vocals.
Beyond the technical prowess, the band demonstrates a keen skill for blending poetic phrasing with impactful imagery. Tracks like “Snakebite” feature some of the most expressive, gorgeous vocal deliveries of the year, while the piano-ballad verses of “Canyons” showcase their ability to navigate complex rhythmic changes. Even when the band pivots toward the abrasive—often sparked by Ward’s post-punk sensibilities on tracks like “Goddamn, Lizard Man!”—the chaos never feels frivolous. Instead, it adds a necessary layer of weight and drama to an already compelling debut.
