I am a big of “Mockingbird” by The Secret Radio. Damian Fowler’s voice enters right as the acoustic guitar begins, no buildup or introduction. It’s like walking into a conversation that’s already happening, and you realize it’s one you need to hear.
The backstory makes it even better. Fowler wrote this for a friend dealing with a terrible breakup, someone who felt like the entire world was collapsing. You can hear that in the writing. The lyrics don’t sugarcoat anything. God’s missing, the mockingbird refuses to sing, the sky is burning. It’s bleak. But here’s the thing: the chorus turns that around without being preachy about it. It suggests that maybe breaking down is actually the beginning of something new. That idea stuck with me long after the song ended.
Musically, everything layers together in this really satisfying way. Bebbo adds these electric guitar parts that drift through the acoustic base, and Jane Kittredge’s violin brings in this folk sadness that elevates the whole thing. Then Fowler’s harmonies come in, and they’re like that first breath of relief after holding tension for too long. He described them as “a break in the storm clouds,” which is pretty accurate.
The band clearly knows their British indie rock. I kept thinking about early Coldplay, especially “Sparks,” and some of Ed Sheeran’s quieter, more emotional work. But The Secret Radio make it their own. The rhythm section keeps this groove going that makes the song move, even when you’re sitting with heavy emotions.
After hearing how good “Swimming Pool on Mars” was, I had high expectations. “Mockingbird” meets them and then some. It’s on their debut album “Shortwave,” and if this is what they’re putting out, I’m definitely checking out the rest.
What I appreciate most is that “Mockingbird” doesn’t try to fix anything or offer easy answers. It just acknowledges that things can feel impossible while quietly suggesting that maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s even necessary. Not many songs manage to do that without sounding fake.
Check it out here.
