Nostalgia and heartbreak have often ruled the lives and songs of The Xcerts—or more specifically, the heart of singer/guitarist Murray Macleod. He formed the band in Aberdeen in 2001 at the age of 13 along with bassist Jordan Smith after the pair met in the headmaster’s office at school. They eventually moved to Brighton to give the band thing a real shot, enlisting Tom Heron on drums to round out the lineup. Their stunning debut In the Cold Wind We Smile was released in 2009, and over the course of the next almost-decade the trio released three more fantastic albums, evolving their sound with each one, but always maintaining a sense of hopeful romanticism.
Though lumped in with the British alt-rock scene, The Xcerts have always stood head and shoulders above most of their contemporaries, never afraid to follow their own artistic path. 2018’s Hold on to Your Heart seemed like it could’ve been something of a commercial breakthrough—by that point the band had established anthemic heart-torn rock as their forte, and that record’s wonderfully emotive, well-crafted songs (not to mention their loyal and dedicated fanbase) helped the record reach the Top 40 on the UK charts. Most bands would probably double down on the sound that had taken them that far now that the formula had been uncovered, but The Xcerts aren’t most bands, and after a little post-pandemic soul-searching, the three of them decided to shake things up on Learning How to Live and Let Go.
Produced by Blood Red Shoes’ Steven Ansell, their intention was to defy expectations and convention. And while there are elements of every Xcerts era present in the new album’s songs, they did just that, creating a restless, hyperactive, but nevertheless beautiful set of songs that, as Macleod explains, took them on a journey of self-rediscovery—one that moved away from the nostalgia and heartbreak that had come to define the band and toward something darker and grittier, something based more in reality than in the romanticized hope and dreams of the band’s older days.
Immerse yourself in the record and read what the frontman had to say about its songs below.
1. “GIMME”
One minute and 40 seconds of chaotic distorted pop. We wanted this song to act as a divisive atom bomb and also be self-aware—it’s intended to break the fourth wall, so to speak. Without doubt the most liberating song we’ve ever created about the sometimes-humorous nature of desire.
2. “Car Crash Culture”
We drew pretty heavily from our love of ’80s punk on this one. We clocked that we had never really highlighted our love of the genre, but it was also important for us to push the sonics of the song to let it fly. We also placed this song early on in the record to establish the narcissism of the characters involved in the record.
3. “Jealousy”
I never thought I was a jealous person until I was involved in a toxic relationship. The internal mania I experienced within myself was a new experience and one I couldn’t stand. A lot of the record deals with ego death and the pathetic nature of pride standing in your way. We wanted to capture the madness of my experience with a big, grungy stadium-rock song.
4. “Ache”
Inspired by a line from A Streetcar Named Desire, it’s a pretty claustrophobic song intended to bloom with love and hope as it progresses. The song features Sam Carter of Architects, who’s been one of my best friends for over 17 years now, and his feature and presence on the song means so much to us. The whole thing is really an ode to loved ones who were by my side during a really difficult time when I felt like I had no fight left in me and my light was dimming. The chorus, to me, is an audio representation of Sam grabbing me, dragging me out of the dirt, and saying “I got you.” It’s desperate in its quest for hope.
5. “Drag Me Out”
I initially thought I was penning lyrics about the previously mentioned toxic relationship, but over time it became clear I was writing about a conversation between sense and my struggles with how I viewed myself at the time. Lyrically, there were maybe five different versions before I felt happy with the final piece. It’s a real statement of a song and serves as a reminder of how far I’ve come in battling those demons. Musically we wanted to write a lush, widescreen pop song that had the DNA of our previous record.
6. “Everything I Cannot Live Without”
For as long as I can remember, we always shied away from showcasing real vulnerability in song. I don’t really know why. We probably thought it was uncool or some bullshit like that, but we completely rid ourselves of that notion on this record and it was legitimately the most freeing feeling to do so. This song feels cute, and I love that. There’s a lot to digest during the first five songs, so it acts as a breather before side B. There’s banjo, there’s cello, and there will undoubtedly be tears.
7. “Lovesick”
I can’t begin to explain how stressful it was making this song. We handed in the final version on the day we submitted the album. It was intended to be way more soulful and gospel-inspired, but for whatever reason it never felt fully-formed—nor did the vision feel realized. One of our managers suggested we start from scratch and that it should feature a guitar hook, so I spent a week in our bud’s studio with the song on loop, rewriting guitar hook after guitar hook after guitar hook after guitar hook, and I’m so thankful I lost my mind because I love it. It’s an anthem that plays out like a twisted romcom full of humor and sex.
8. “Inhale(her)”
I think the lyrics penned are the best I’ve ever written...in my incredibly biased opinion. These lines poured out of me, imperative almost. I’m not certain if they’ll make much sense to everyone, but that’s cool—I want people to interpret them in any way they wish to do so. The song itself is really glitchy and beautiful and the outro is pure drama. I like the fact that we’ll blindside people with it.
9. “Lust in Translation”
Probably the most experimental song on the record about being led astray by desire and living in the blurry moment. It’s a bit of a curveball, but I love the nighttime energy of it. We wanted to capture the romance and ecstasy of a night out, hence why it has an almost clublike/darkly euphoric feel to it. The bridge is comically overwhelming but it’s purposeful. It’s meant to represent a montage of the life lived from the night before whilst feeling completely bewildered in the morning. The song also features a photocopying machine which we sampled, and I’m unashamedly proud of that fact.
10. “Blame”
Undoubtedly the most quintessential ’Certs song on the album. It’s an upbeat, distorted pop song about accountability. I’ve often tried to find a scapegoat or some deep-rooted problem within myself as to why I haven’t been able to hold down a relationship, but sometimes you gotta hold your hands up and admit you have the ability to be an arsehole. There’s a lot of subtle shoegaze influences on the record, and Laura Mary Carter from Blood Red Shoes jumped on the track to provide a really lush vocal in order to capture some beauty over a thrashy wall of noise. It’s a small, nuanced feature, but so critical in making it what it is.
11. “My Friends Forever”
I’m so proud of this song. When making the record, no idea was thrown out or deemed silly. We wanted to throw everything at the wall and the majority of it stuck, so when I proposed we write a Blue Note–inspired jazz song, we got to work. It’s basically a love letter to the guys in the band and my friend Tom Searle, who passed away in 2016. We even sample “Gone with the Wind,” an Architects song from their record All Our Gods Have Abandoned Us, but you’ll have to have pretty attentive ears to catch it.
12. “It Ain’t Easy”
When writing this song, I knew it was going to close out the record, and I had it in my mind that it could potentially be our swan song. I was inspired to write a song that not only acted as a summary for the record, but also for my self-proclaimed convoluted life. Slightly dramatic, but I needed to put some things to bed. In some ways, I feel like it’s spiritually linked to “Aberdeen 1987” from our first record, but written from the perspective of an adult and not a naïve teenager. I don’t smoke weed, but I had to get stoned during lockdown to escape and so I headed to the beach and listened to “Take It Easy” by The Eagles and thought to myself, “What the fuck are you talking about, I can’t!” It acts as a sigh of relief after a pretty exhausting half hour, a finding of inner peace, I guess. It can be really hard out there, but everything passes and we’re still here savoring the good and fighting the bad. Let it roll.
