RATING: 6/10 

It’s been a while since the UK has had an inkling of an emotional post-hardcore band as raw as this. Having only formed in 2014, over the last four years Casey has become an apparent name in the British music scene.

While their last output, Love Is Not Enough was merely an inkling of this band’s potential, W.I.G.W.I.A.S is the band really reaching their maximum levels of both progression and more.

The title, Where I Go When I Am Sleeping is a rather fitting one, considering the dreamscape that is both beautifully and hauntingly painted on the opening track, Making Weight. Lyrically, vocalist Tom Weaver is blunt in his confrontation to the mental health stigma, and more so the lack of openness about it that seems to be surrounding the male population. “I was embarrassed to speak up because a man should be able to care for himself, and not need medication to make it through the day,” strikes an equally sickening as it does raw nerve in us, and makes us all want to pick up the phone to the men in our lives and check in on them.

Weaver is blunt in his confrontation to the mental health stigma, and more so the lack of openness about it that seems to be surrounding the male population.”

However, following track, Wavering, and for a majority of the record seems to be an overly produced and at times muffling sound. Don’t get us wrong, it sounds full, and it is filled with the brim with beautifully and intricately guitars and pounding guitars, but throwing in the odd change in time signature doesn’t seem to brighten things up anytime soon. The simply titled, & makes for an interesting break mid-record, of which is a rare sighting in itself this day and age, almost splitting the record in two with an early outro. Leading into the second half, Fluorescents is nothing short of magnificently angelic, a track that if carried live with the right lighting and setting could be both theatrical and atmospheric. However, the constant mimics of bands such as La Dispute and The Elijah seem almost too common across the entirety of the 12 tracks and dampens down any originality or credibility of the release.

A painfully honest record, conceptually the melancholy confessions of Weaver’s experiences of poor health and near death experiences are poured out like a late night / early morning drinking session, one where you imagine Weaver to be that guy leant against the kitchen sink at 3 am at the end of a house party confining his most inner thoughts to you. However, musically it’s just not there. The constant build then drop of ferociousness and pace becomes redundant, and thus this becomes a record that only holds any sort of satisfactoriness within the odd track. But we’re not encouraging you to write off this record midway through the first listen, but rather hope to give further merit to both the band and the record once we’ve experienced it being played live.





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