Future Islands: Their 10 Best Songs

The more time I spend with Future Islands, the more I love them. A breath of idiosyncratic, slightly dorky and utterly un-self conscious air amid an increasingly po-faced and mechanical indie music scene, they make music that covers the entire emotional spectrum with such ferocity that it’s hard to avoid getting swept up in it – from wide-eyed curiosity and celebrations of love and vitality, to gloomy introspection and uncertainty.

After slowly picking through the BBC’s relatively hefty selection of Glastonbury footage in the weekends since the festival (damn Monday-to-Friday job), my attention was drawn to the Baltimore synth-pop trio’s Sunday evening set. Described afterwards as a culmination of the band’s rapid growth since their game-changing performance of 2014 hit Seasons (Waiting on You) on Letterman in March of last year, the show bristles with frenetic energy and a jovial, endearing ‘yeah, we earned this and we’re fucking loving it’ vibe.

I must admit to having only been turned onto the band thanks to the viral status of that ridiculously brilliant Letterman performance. My curiosity piqued by the frankly daft stage antics of frontman Samuel T. Herring, I took a cursory dip into their back catalogue, to be initially overwhelmed by the aforementioned emotional intensity and Herring’s penchant for enunciating like the hammiest of hammy amateur thespians.

But eventually, something clicked. I came to appreciate Future Islands’ subtleties, and saw that they pretty much always mark their more dramatic moments with a self-aware wink and nod, or a cheeky childish grin.

So, with a nod to the internet’s love of list-based articles, I feel that I’m in a decent enough position to provide a countdown of my favourite Future Islands songs. This is (naturally) subjective, and doesn’t necessarily contribute to your life in any meaningful way at all, but it might give you something new to listen to, or at the very least provide you with five minutes of disposable entertainment.

#10. Before The Bridge

The second track on On The Water is somewhat orderly by Future Islands standards – though that’s not to call the track dull, with Herring’s cod-British affectation out in full force as he balances on the precipice of regret and chest-puffing bravado, snaking around William Cashion’s typically propulsive New Order bass guitar.  Before the Bridge explodes into a mammoth 80s chorus, Herring proclaiming that he would ‘carry you as far as the stars’, whilst sounding resigned to the fact that he’ll never get the chance.

#9. Swept Inside

The band are much more subdued on Swept Inside, letting the uplifting nu-wave bass line and breezy, sun-tinged electronics move the song forward in a joyful canter. Sam’s lyrics, nostalgic stream-of-consciousness musings on dreams and regret, evoke images of long desert roads and the odd clash of hopefulness and doubt that comes with the transition from adolescence to adulthood. His voice is kept low in the mix, which allows Cashion and keyboardist Gerrit Welmers to take a rare trip into the spotlight and craft one of Future Islands’ more atmospheric tracks.

#8. Long Flight

Long Flight is the quintessential Future Islands song – all quirky rhythms, rumbling guitars and mechanistic yet oddly earthy melodies, that build loosely to a fiery and dramatic climax. The melodrama is ramped up to ten, Sam looking back on a failed relationship with wry, somewhat insincere-sounding humour, twitching through gritted teeth and eventually exploding into a pained howl at the song's climax. It's kinetic, angsty and brilliantly daft, while remaining just the right side of corny.

#7. Doves

If there is one shining indicator of the newly imbued confidence that Future Islands display on 2014's Singles, it is Doves. While they’ve always had a flair for the unusual and unexpected, it would still be something of a curveball for fans to hear them knock out a sexy, swooning, sun-soaked 80s pop song. But they do so with swagger and full-blooded enthusiasm. Herring croons 'ooh ooh's and 'baby's like they're on 2-for-1 at Woolworth's, channelling George Michael by way of David Bowie, as Cashion's staccato bassline pops and pivots throughout.

#6. Little Dreamer

The band’s 2008 debut is, by and large, an energetic collection of somewhat samey eclectic, dance-tinged rhythms and sawtooth synth melodies. But Little Dreamer exhibits the slower, more thoughtful bent that the band would explore further on later albums. Though there is a distinct absence of the polish that would make its way into their sound, this actually adds to the raw soulfulness of the song. There is a sparse, spacious Joy Division-esque quality to Little Dreamer, with Herring’s astounding vocals oddly distant – it’s easy to envision him prowling the studio, eyes fixed to the middle distance, as the band carefully populate the space with electronic drums, chirps and fizzes.

#5. Light House

Subtly different to the band’s previous output, Light House retains the fervent energy of earlier tracks such as Vireo’s Eye, but dresses it up in layers of beautiful, ethereal keyboards and softly strummed acoustic guitars. This song fully exhibits Future Islands’ ability to let a song grow, and it’s clear that they revel in building the song from the ground up, smothering the motorik drum beat with washes of dreamy noise. This also comprises one of my favourite vocal performances from Sam – developing from a hushed, neatly enunciated whisper to a throaty bark, by the end, you can hear his voice reverberating around the room he’s in. Magical.

#4. Seasons (Waiting on You)

The track which immediately led to their fanbase growing exponentially, although not necessarily for the right reasons – Herring’s stage antics on Letterman becoming something of a novelty for a few people, somewhat overshadowing the actual song. Which is a shame, because that song is an expertly crafted piece of heartbreak-soaked pop music that rightly sat atop many publications’ end-of-year lists. Seasons captures the essence of classic pop songwriting, distilling it into a lean 3-and-a-half minutes of warm synth melodies and soulful, melancholy vocals. For this reason, it is perhaps one of the band’s most solid and concise songs, although it can sound a little formulaic when compared to some of their more esoteric output.

#3. A Dream of You and Me

Something of a sequel to Seasons, A Dream of You and Me serves as the second bookend to Singles, and resumes that song's themes of absence and heartbreak. But rather than provide a succinct sense of closure to proceedings, the song ends up meandering back on itself and on the album as a whole. Herring explores the futility of certain actions - frustrated at the cyclical nature of his situation, he 'wrestles by the sea', replaying mistakes he made over and over, trying to let things go but seemingly unable to. The sense of restless perpetuation created by the subject matter and woozy, sweeping outro, rather than feeling dissatisfying, serves to make A Dream of You and Me inherently listenable, mirroring the indecision at its heart. Equally as important as having a solid opening track to draw listeners in, a finale that immediately makes you want to listen back to the whole album again is something special.

#2. The Great Fire

Future Islands at their dark, gothic, introspective best, The Great Fire is the atmospheric, downbeat ballad that forms the heart of On the Water. It is a relatively simplistic song, which would merely be functional if not for the presence of Wye Oak's Jenn Wasner, whose call-and-response repetition in the first chorus elevates the song, utilising the minimalist melody and Herring’s more subdued vocal as a springboard to launch it high into the air. Wasner then takes over the lead, her soaring, expansive vocals providing the perfect foil for Herring's bruised, downtrodden emoting. The Great Fire showcases the band's musical sensibilities and humility – in letting Wasner cover so much ground in the song in its brief running time, it can impact in a way that it wouldn't otherwise have done.

#1. Balance

Utterly sublime from start to finish, Balance was the first song (after Seasons, naturally) that led me to believe that this band was truly something special. A simple sentiment - 'You can clean around the wound, but if you want it to heal, it just takes time' - but one put forward with the utmost poise and grace, the band's surefootedness making the song breeze by in waves of sparkling keyboards and nimble guitar work. It is rare for a song, especially one that deals with such universal topics, to sound so effortlessly aloof, and it is a testament to Future Islands' unorthodox perspective that it comes across as neither tired nor insincere. Casting aside some of their more unworkable pretensions, this is the sound of the band simply making a good song – creating something arguably faultless in the process.