Blanketman - National Trust (EP)

Manchester has a knack for birthing bands who turn nervy energy into something you can whistle on the walk home, and Blanketman’s debut EP, National Trust, slots neatly into that lineage. Released in March 2021, it catches a young group in full flight, tight as a drum and just scruffy enough to feel alive. The title is a cheeky nod to Britain’s fondness for preserving heritage, but these songs are more concerned with present tense jitters, cramped flats, and the weird joy that comes from shouting a hook with your mates in a sweaty room.

The opener, Taking You With Me, is the calling card. It barrels forward on a springy bassline and slashing guitar, vocals pitched between sardonic and sincere. There’s a catch in the phrasing that feels distinctly Northern, a dry grin even when the words bite. It is one of those post-punk singles that clocks two or three spins before you realise you have been humming it all arvo. Beach Body takes the band’s deadpan humour even further, poking at wellness culture with a twitchy riff and drums that snap like a towel. It is playful but not slight, a reminder that the smartest bands know how to lay out a joke and still land a chorus.

Harold might be the sleeper favourite here, rattling along with wiry guitars and a rhythm section that refuses to sit still. Blanketman keep things lean, never hanging around long enough for a groove to go stale. The guitars have that wiry, bright tone you associate with classic Manchester indie, but there is also a nervier undercurrent that pulls from Wire and the more spiky side of Britpop’s DNA. You can hear the influence of The Fall in the clipped cadence and barked asides, yet the band never slips into pastiche. They borrow the best instincts, then write the kind of nagging hooks that stick to your ribs.

What really sells National Trust is the sense of a band playing in a room, eyes up, listening to each other. The drums sit crisp and forward, the bass walks a tightrope between melodic counterpoint and propulsive thud, and the guitars jab, chime and occasionally fan out into a lovely clatter. The production keeps the edges intact, so you still get the rattle of strings and the air moving in the spaces between notes. It is the right call for these songs, which rely on momentum and little flashes of detail, the stray backing vocal or the way a chord change arrives half a beat earlier than you expect.

Plenty of UK outlets clocked the promise here, and it is easy to hear why. In a crowded field of post-punk hopefuls, Blanketman write with economy and wit. They are not trying to solve the world, just to make sense of the daily mess with sharp tunes and a side-eye. That makes National Trust a tidy showcase, a snapshot of a band ready to test these songs on bigger stages. You can imagine Taking You With Me lighting up a festival tent just after sunset, pints in the air, friends yelling the refrain like it was written just for them.

If you are a collector, this is the sort of release that rewards a spin on the turntable. Search for National Trust vinyl and Blanketman vinyl and you will find plenty of chatter from fans who want these songs in a format that suits their punch and clang. If you like to buy Blanketman records online, keep an eye out, and if you prefer to browse in person, ask at your local Melbourne record store. There is a good chance someone behind the counter has already put this aside as a staff pick, especially if they specialise in indie and post-punk. Digging through vinyl records Australia often throws up gems like this, the kind of EP that ends up sitting next to your Sleaford Mods and Buzzcocks reissues, ready for a quick blast when you need thirty minutes of sharp, wired fun. And if you are building a shelf of Blanketman albums on vinyl as the band’s catalogue grows, this is the logical spine to hang it on.

National Trust does not pretend to be more than it is, which is part of its charm. It is a brisk, bright document of a band with something to say and the bite to say it. No bloat, no filler, just five or six tunes that race by and leave you wanting another go. That is the sweet spot for a debut, and Blanketman hit it clean.