Westerman - Your Hero Is Not Dead (LP) - White Vinyl

Some records feel like a gentle hand on the shoulder. Westerman’s debut album, Your Hero Is Not Dead, is one of them. Released on 5 June 2020, it arrived in the weird hush of that year and set up shop in the space between soft confession and bright, thoughtful art pop. The London singer and guitarist already had a reputation for finely chiselled singles, but this full length threads his careful songwriting through a richer palette. You can hear the patience in every arrangement, the way the songs breathe, and the way his voice sits up close without turning cloying.

The Talk Talk comparisons have followed Westerman since the beginning, and they are not lazy. The title track was written as a tribute to Mark Hollis after his passing in 2019, and it closes the album with quiet resolve. It is not pastiche. It is more a conversation across time, with Westerman letting space and restraint do the heavy lifting. That sensibility runs through the record. Guitars flicker rather than jangle. Synths glow like streetlights in drizzle. The percussion never crowds the picture. It helps that he worked closely with Nathan Jenkins, better known as Bullion, whose production keeps things light on their feet while giving the low end a springy pulse.

Your Hero Is Not Dead opens with Drawbridge, a gentle curtain-raiser that sketches the album’s mood in a few clean strokes. Then the record starts to bloom. Big Nothing Glow builds on a nimble bassline and a vocal that sounds half curious, half wary, like someone testing a thought out loud. Blue Comanche, one of the key singles, is the kind of song that gets under your skin by stealth. It moves with a subtle swing, pensively, but the chorus lands with a soft grin. Waiting on Design sharpens the edges, tugging at a knotty rhythm while Westerman turns over questions about choice and uncertainty. Think I’ll Stay might be the album’s secret centre, its melody hovering between comfort and doubt. Each track feels like an essay in clarity, trimmed of clutter, but never thin.

A lot of singer songwriters chase intimacy by scaling everything back. Westerman does something trickier. He opens the window. You can feel air moving through these songs, little gusts of backing vocals here, a fleck of synth or hand percussion there, all placed with care. Bullion’s touch is crucial. The drums tend to patter rather than pound, so the grooves have give in them. When the bass leans forward, as on Big Nothing Glow, it nudges the song along without breaking the mood. When a chorus arrives, it tends to unfurl rather than burst. That sense of flow is what makes repeated listens so rewarding. You hear the seams vanish.

Critics clocked this right away. Publications like Pitchfork and The Guardian praised the album’s calm confidence and the clear-eyed writing, and fans gravitated to those early singles for good reason. But the deep cuts hold their own. The Line tiptoes through a lingering melody that feels oddly familiar by the second verse. The title track feels like a letter you end up saving, even if you are not sure why on first read. The sequencing is tidy, too, guiding you from the glow of the A side into the reflective hush of the B side.

If you are tempted by Westerman vinyl, this is an easy yes. Your Hero Is Not Dead vinyl gives the arrangements a little extra room, with the vocals sitting warm and present and the bass revealing some supple detail you might miss on earbuds. I first played it late on a rainy night after picking up a copy at a Melbourne record store, and it has become one of those side A to side B listens where you stop checking your phone and let the final track settle the room. If you are hunting around to buy Westerman records online, or you are building a stack of Westerman albums on vinyl, start here. It also sits nicely alongside kindred, spacious pop on your shelf, the stuff you reach for when you want to think a bit while you tidy the kitchen.

For listeners in search of vinyl records Australia wide, this one keeps paying out. It is understated, yes, but not slight. Westerman writes with a steady hand, and Bullion frames those songs with a glimmer that never tips into gloss. The result is a debut that still feels alive years on, a set of tracks that keep revealing small choices and quiet pleasures. Put it on when the house is still, let that closing tribute to Hollis roll over the final groove, and you will know exactly what kind of record this is. Quiet, careful, and quietly unforgettable.