Review

Big Special’s surprise sophomore effort *National Average* arrives with the same irrepressible wit and working‑class swagger they cultivated on their debut, but with an emotional and structural refinement that marks a genuinely smart evolution. From the outset, “The Mess” sets the tone: raw, driving bass and drums underpin Joe Hicklin’s Midland drawl as he contemplates the collapse of hope against the backdrop of everyday drudgery. This tracks through the funk-tinged stomp of “God Save the Pony”, a standout single balancing existential fatigue with a gallows‑humour flex that only Hicklin could deliver. The band lean harder into rhythm this time, flirting with groove without once compromising their punk‑poetic bite . Lyrically, this is Big Special’s most concentrated work yet. “Shop Music” acts as both manifesto and middle finger, dissecting capitalism and artistic compromise with brutal honesty, while “Professionals” drips with gallows wit – the delivered “lol” after “fuck’s for commas…” is pitch‑perfect. Mid‑album sizzles with experimental oddities: “Pig’s Puddin’” is a disturbing, fridge‑metaphor fever dream, darkly surreal yet deeply moving. And then come emotional troughs like “Domestic Bliss” and “Judas Song”, narratives of broken everyday lives and modern betrayal, unfolding with sax interjections and brooding intensity. Where *National Average* truly surprises is its closing pair. “The Beast” stands as a stark, minimalist confession with a terrifying stillness. Then “Thin Horses”, featuring a haunting cameo from Rachel Goswell, offers a cathartic release — a solemn, tender farewell that acknowledges despair while ending on a fragile note of hope. Critics concur. The Line Of Best Fit praises the record’s “self‑aware, contradictory voice… laced with gallows humour, dryer‑than‑coaldust Midland wit” , while Maxazine highlights the dual emotional layering: a heady mix of ambition’s bravado and introspection’s regret. *National Average* is neither franchise reheat nor self‑indulgent sophomore slump — it’s a confident leap forward. Big Special have tightened their delivery, deepened their emotional palette, and retained their uniquely British flair for grim comedy. The album doesn’t soften its edges, but it tempers them with craft. In a post‑industrial Britain creaking under contradiction, *National Average* feels like the soundtrack to trudging forward anyway, smirking into the abyss. For fans of Fontaines D.C., Sleaford Mods and Benefits, this lands as a refreshing—and necessary—second blast.

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