Don’t be surprised if Heaven Knows What Time doesn’t sound like you expect. It’s Vera Ellen’s fifth album or EP in five years, and a fifth change of direction. So where does it fit in?
Chronologically, Heaven Knows What Time is a follow-up to two home-recorded EPs from May 2024. The first one, heartbreak for jetlag, was unapologetically sad: acoustic, percussion-free, raw and unpolished. The second, World Emotion, came out about a fortnight later with a lo-fi assortment of unfancy instruments and fuzzy guitars that carry shades of Tall Dwarfs. It was more improvised, more loosely structured, and more upbeat. A mismatched pair of quick successes.
In album terms Heaven Knows What Time is a follow-up to 2023’s Ideal Home Noise, which won the country’s key critical accolade, the Taite Music Prize, in 2024. Creative and subtly clever, Ideal Home Noise would be best filed under ‘indie rock’, but it quickly bursts the sides of that box. Its lyrics are the high point, blending confession and commentary, despair and optimism. I have a theory that Ellen dashed off those two EPs to put some distance between the singular achievement of Ideal Home Noise and whatever long player would come next.
But perhaps Heaven Knows What Time is the spiritual successor to an earlier album, It’s Your Birthday (2021). That was Ellen’s most outward-facing recording of the decade so far, the easiest to sing along to, the one that strove most to entertain. There’s no such thing as a straightforward Vera Ellen song, but these tunes on Heaven Knows What Time are a return to the indie rock box, which for us listeners is a more familiar and less challenging place. If you’re going to play Vera Ellen at a party, these are the LPs you’ll reach for. Just make sure it’s the right party first.
Heaven Knows What Time is an extroverted record from a natural self-critic. Opener ‘Spit @ the Sky’ has space for riffs and rock glory (albeit offset by a toy xylophone). Viewed in the right light, ‘Gayfever’ seems positively flippant (even if it’s about unrequited affection). The verses of ‘Walking in Vegas’ are crooned over staccato bass, capturing the imagined zeitgeist of the town it’s set in (although its droned chorus reduces the singer to drinking alone).
After the hard times that were documented in heartbreak for jetlag and Ideal Home Noise, it’s a relief to hear Ellen having fun and enjoying moments of celebration. The positivity shines through even as the album’s emotional arc curves downwards. In the first song, “My day was shit but yum, you’re the nice bit / You’re the peak of my week”. By the end (‘Getting Told Off By Mum’), she’s “screaming and driving […] weeping, hitting the metaphorical ceiling”.
‘Thaw’, track 7, is the album in miniature. It’s built around a danceable rock beat and a bright guitar line, and it has a catchy chorus. Its characters meet and fall in love. But there’s a creeping menace around the edges, quiet bits where nothing settles down. In the video, the emerging darkness is literal.
On the slower ‘When It’s Over’, Hemi Hemingway guests. It’s a song about couples who can’t let arguments go. He is as much a partner as a target. But damn, they sound good together.
Take your time with this album. It’s not hard to find your way in, but there are plenty of discoveries to make. Ellen’s back catalogue proves that she only bothers with second takes or backing vocals when there’s something more to add, as there is here. These compositions are attentively constructed, built for multiple moods. Just as crucially, the work stopped at the right time too. Seams show through and imperfections add beauty.
Nothing is perfect. No story is simple. Up close, no-one’s a hero. The best you can hope for is to sing about life and still be smiling at the end. That’s the hope fulfilled by Heaven Knows What Time.
