The track opens with drums that sound like they're echoing from another room entirely, a deliberate murkiness that immediately sets the mood. It's a clever bit of production—that moment of anticipation before the band kicks the door in. And kick it in they do. Within seconds, you're transported into a swirling, kaleidoscopic soundscape that owes as much to 'Tomorrow Never Knows' as it does to 'I Wanna Be Adored'. The psychedelic flourishes are worn proudly on the sleeve, but Wooden Dog aren't content to simply cosplay as their influences.
Where the song truly announces itself is in its marriage of texture and melody. The guitars crunch and snarl with the kind of satisfying aggression that makes you want to turn the volume up another notch, while stabbing rhythmic figures create tension that the chorus gleefully releases. And what a chorus it is—an earworm that lodges itself in your consciousness with the tenacity of the great alt-rock anthems. It's the sort of refrain that demands to be bellowed back at the band from a packed festival field, and you suspect that's exactly where it will find its natural home.
The arrangement throughout demonstrates a band thinking beyond the verse-chorus-verse formula. Keys shimmer and weave through the mix, adding layers of atmosphere without cluttering the sonic space. The rhythm section—often the unsung heroes of any rock band—provides both the anchor and the propulsion, keeping things grounded while pushing the song ever forward.
But it's the finale where Wooden Dog truly justify the hype that's been building around them. The final chorus doesn't just arrive; it detonates. Every instrument seems to be vying for attention, yet somehow it all coheres into something genuinely thrilling. The lead vocal delivers with the kind of raw desperation that can't be faked, while a haunting falsetto backing vocal creates a gorgeous, unsettling counterpoint. The bass leaps up the octave; the drums crash with abandon. It's controlled chaos, the musical equivalent of a pressure valve finally releasing.
The band themselves describe wanting this section to feel like "one big, contained mess," and they've succeeded brilliantly. It's the payoff for the restraint shown earlier in the track, the outpouring of emotion that the song has been building toward. Too many young bands mistake volume for intensity or chaos for passion. Wooden Dog understand the difference.
Lyrically, the track tackles anxiety, paranoia, and the spiral of overthinking—territory well-trodden by countless indie bands, certainly, but given fresh urgency by the genuine conviction in the delivery. The title itself is perfectly judged: 'Only Sleeping' suggests temporary respite, the thin membrane between consciousness and whatever lies beneath. It's a reminder that these feelings are universal, a message delivered without condescension or platitude.
Wooden Dog's decision to return with this particular track after focusing on their live presence proves shrewd. It's heavier, darker, grittier than their previous work—a statement of intent from a band ready to be taken seriously. The comparisons to Coldplay, Foy Vance, and The Stone Roses that follow them around feel increasingly reductive. 'Only Sleeping' suggests a band finding their own voice, one that could very well be filling those stadiums they're clearly building their sound for.
Whether they'll get there remains to be seen, but 'Only Sleeping' makes a compelling case that Wooden Dog aren't just another promising band from Birmingham—they're a genuine prospect worth your attention. Welcome back, lads. We've been waiting.