After nearly a decade of waiting, Birmingham four-piece The Clause have finally released their debut album, Victim of a Casual Thing. The band formed back in 2015, with their first single arriving in 2017 and have spent years building momentum within the British indie scene. They describe themselves as having a “60s swagger with an 80s groove and a 90s attack, still incorporating the big sound of modern-day guitar music,” a statement that captures their sound perfectly. Growing up together, the band’s chemistry is obvious; it’s the kind of tight-knit energy that only forms over years of friendship and playing together. They’ve earned their stripes through major support slots for acts like James, The Lottery Winners, The Reytons, The Pigeon Detectives, DMA’s, The Enemy and The Snuts. Victim of a Casual Thing feels like the natural culmination of that journey, a record which took inspiration of all the artists they have worked with. It’s self-assured and dripping with the same youthful chaos that defined their early days.
The album opens with ‘Prologue’, a burst of diegetic chatter and laughter that feels like you’ve stumbled into a bar just before the night begins. There’s something distinctly nostalgic and filmic about it, it’s immersive, almost voyeuristic, as if you’re eavesdropping on a group of friends in the moments before a night spiral’s out of control. The sound cuts off abruptly, leaving you hanging in anticipation for what’s to come, and from that point onwards, the album rarely loses its energy.
Lead single ‘Nothing’s As It Seems’ captures The Clause at their most self -aware. “Sing myself to sleep because nothing’s really ever as it seems,” vocalist Pearce Macca croons, setting the tone for a track that could soundtrack a coming-of-age indie film from the 2000s. Lines like “misery in the morning papers” and “nothing matters when you’re six foot under” veer between self-pity and bravado, but that tension gives the song its emotional pull. It’s melodramatic, yes, but deliberately so.
That sense of cinematic cool continues with ‘Tell Me What You Want’, with a swaggering intro instantly reminiscent of The Killers’ ‘The Man’. “Don’t wake me up” and “Childhood dreams” stand out as hooks that balance ambition and insecurity. It’s a song about identity and the performance of confidence, all wrapped up in a sleek sound. ‘In My Element’ (NOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!! listed on Spotify simply as ‘Element’, though the press release uses the longer title) is inevitably the album’s most recognisable song, even though it first dropped back in 2019. It’s hard to believe the track is six years old, because it still feels alive and electric, buzzing with the energy of youth and late-night hedonism. It’s popular for a reason: the hook refuses to leave your head, and its inclusion here feels like both a nod to their past and a statement of how far they’ve come.
‘White Lifeline’ follows with immaculate guitar riffs and crisp, tightly wound production that wouldn’t sound out of place to a Favourite Worst Nightmare-era Arctic Monkeys. “I wanted to break free” anchors the track thematically, its restless energy matching the tone of the whole album. There’s an undeniable polish here, this is a band who know exactly what they’re doing, even when they’re singing about chaos.
Not every track lands perfectly, though. ‘Elisha’ is perhaps the weakest of the bunch, with lyrics like “Kissed me round the back of the Wetherspoons in Leeds” straying into territory that’s more awkward than endearing. It’s charming in its honesty, but undeniably immature, perhaps the kind of memory that feels best left in a group chat rather than immortalised on an album. Still, there’s something admirable about their willingness to embrace nostalgia in all its messy, embarrassing forms.
‘Exception’ provides a welcome change of pace, offering a slower, more intimate moment that softens the album’s relentless tempo. It’s followed by ‘Weekend Millionaire’, a track that perfectly captures the band’s fixation on youth and freedom. “Stuck in a teenage dream” isn’t just a lyric here: it’s the record’s mission statement. This is an album about clinging to the euphoria of adolescence, about trying to live rich even when your bank account says otherwise.
This theme continues with ‘I Don’t Care’, one of the album’s standout moments. Although clocking in at just over three minutes, it feels short and punchy. “Never earned a penny that you haven’t spent,” “Waste my time, stay high till the bitter end,” and “If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing” all serve as mantras for a band proudly refusing to grow up. ‘Fever Dream’ takes a more reflective turn, with Macca admitting “I should have worked harder,” a line that feels almost tongue-in-cheek coming from a band in their mid-to-late twenties still writing about school. Yet that’s part of the charm, this self-awareness adds depth to what could have been another throwaway track. Released as a single in 2024, it’s one of their most polished songs to date, balancing humour, reflection, and an undeniable sense of catchiness.
‘Pink Moon’ arrives as a tender love song, a cinematic confession that softens the mood. “Leave the world behind us” feels like an escape from the chaos that’s defined much of the record. It’s dreamy and heartfelt without being overly sentimental, a moment of sincerity that earns its place before the album’s closer.
Of course, closer, ‘Don’t Blink’, is easily the strongest track on the album. Stretching longer than any other song, it acts as both a reflection and resolution. “Bars are filled with could-have-beens” captures the record’s underlying conflict between nostalgia and regret, while “Stop holding onto small things and chasing yesterday” reads like a self-directed piece of advice. It’s a song about growing up (or at least, trying to), and is the perfect way to close an album that’s spent twelve tracks wrestling with youth, identity, and memory.
In many ways, Victim of a Casual Thing is an album about being stuck in your teenage years, but also about recognising that maybe everyone is, in some way. It’s loud, restless, and unapologetically nostalgic, drenched in the kind of emotion that defines early adulthood. The Clause have bottled that thrill perfectly, even if they haven’t quite outgrown it yet. If their next record shows signs of maturity, it could be something truly special. For now, this debut stands as a confident introduction to a band who wear their youth proudly and make you want to relive your own while you’re at it.
Words by Ameila Thompson
