Broncos offer an anthemic and room-shaking full-length debut with enough grit to stand out from their other projects.
There’s an old, tired adage about any local music scene: drummers need to be protected at all costs, because losing one can lead to the demise of half the bands in any given town. Broncos are proving this theory correct and then some. By my very rough napkin maths, the four members collectively contribute to somewhere between five and eight other bands. At this point, they’re approaching the stage where they’ll need to fly in separate aeroplanes when touring. The Northern Irish rock scene is simply too vulnerable to have all these guys travelling on the same vessel.
But I digress. To use just one more travel-based analogy, Broncos have hit the ground running since their inception in 2024. While this is their first full-length album, they’ve already released three EPs and played a slew of high-profile gigs, including an album launch hosted by this very site as part of our GIFTED series at the Belfast Empire. So, I’m sure a lot of people will be wondering: just what do we think of this album?
We think it’s good. We think it’s really f*#&ing good.
The album sounds like the work of a band who are well-honed in their craft. There’s a confidence in the playing that gives these songs an anthemic quality, and it’s easy to imagine them sounding just as huge in front of thousands in an arena as they do in the sweaty clubs the band are currently cutting their teeth in. As a unit, Broncos work incredibly well together, giving each member enough space to show their chops without ever losing sight of the bigger picture.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise. Michael, Shane, Cameron and Matthew, with a little instrument swapping thrown into the mix, also tour heavily as darlings of the ever-growing Irish shoegaze scene, SILK. Going into this project, I wondered if the transformation from SILK to Broncos would be a bit like Clark Kent to Superman: simply remove the glasses and expect us to believe they’re someone else.
Thankfully, it’s much more Jekyll and Hyde. There’s a definite edge and aggression to Broncos’ music that sets them apart from their gazey alter ego, to the point where it’s easy to imagine the two outfits attracting entirely different audiences.
The vocals are front and centre. They want you to know what they’re singing, and they want you to sing along. I’ve been humming the chorus of So Wrong every day since my first listen. The guitars are big, the drums are driving, and across all ten tracks, everything sounds like it has been heavily road-tested, with every ounce of fat cut away.
There are obvious stylistic nods to big ’90s alt-rock, with threads of Smashing Pumpkins, Therapy? and Helmet woven throughout, but there are plenty of more contemporary influences too. Stick a chorus effect on the guitars of Mistakes of the Past and you’d have something akin to Turnstile and a lot of modern hardcore. It’s a combination that gives the album a sense of familiarity without ever making it feel like nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake.
So, how do we summarise King Laugh?
It can feel like a backhanded compliment when you say that a “local” band doesn’t sound local. There’s almost an implication that you’re judging them for reaching beyond their station. But when you bring together musicians with as much mileage under their belts as the members of Broncos, the end result should sound this huge.
King Laugh has become a strong contender for my album of the year, and I can’t help but feel that venue capacities are going to have to catch up soon with the sheer anthemic weight Broncos bring to the stage.
