Review | Big Special – NATIONAL AVERAGE.

Label: SO Recordings

By Bella Platt

BIG SPECIAL return with surprise album ‘NATIONAL AVERAGE.’, the much-anticipated follow-up to last year’s breakthrough album ‘Postindustrial Hometown Blues’. 

Rather than dwell on crisis, their new album turns inwards, grappling with the contradictions of success, the guilt of ambition, and the challenge of finding light amid the dark. This record embraces change while holding tight to the duo’s raw, uncompromising spirit.

The album opens with ‘The Mess,’ a commanding spoken word piece driven by dense synths and a sense of theatrical authority. It’s an assertive introduction—BIG SPECIAL are firmly in control from the outset.

Electronic effects pulse and twist around the vocals, creating a layered, immersive soundscape that feels both experimental and immediate. The lyrics bristle with a kind of playful menace, setting a confrontational yet darkly humorous tone. As the track unfolds, a heavy, hook-laden guitar line crashes in, grounding the chaos and giving the listener a solid footing in the album’s bold new sonic territory.

Up next is ‘God Save the Pony,’ a sharp left turn into brighter, more buoyant territory. Built around infectious duo vocals and an irresistible five-note hook that threads through the entire track, it’s a burst of chaotic fun with a surprisingly tight rhythmic backbone, thanks to a punchy, propulsive drumline.

The lyrics are delightfully unhinged—throwing out phrases like “French sex party” and “sacré bleu” with gleeful abandon and showcasing the duo’s refusal to take themselves too seriously.

That irreverence gives them a refreshing lyrical freedom, making their songs as unpredictable as they are addictive. But beneath the absurdity lies a flicker of sincerity: the chorus, “I hope you’re never tired, I hope you’re never lonely,” cuts through the madness with a surprisingly tender undercurrent.

‘Hug a Bastard’ pulls back the pace, trading momentum for a slow, deliberate groove that lets its message land with weight. Driven by a plodding, almost meditative rhythm, the track delivers lyrical mantras like “Sometimes you’ve gotta rave, sometimes you’ve gotta run” — part advice, part quiet revelation.

The duo’s Black Country roots remain front and centre, not just through their accents but in the unfiltered pride they carry into every line. Clever internal rhymes and tight lyrical phrasing add depth and texture, while the vocals build in intensity, rising into something almost gospel-like as they repeat their hard-earned truths. It’s a song that simmers rather than explodes, but leaves just as strong an impression.

‘Shop Music’ bursts in with abrasive, shouty vocals and a biting sense of humour, delivering a scathing critique of consumer culture with whip-smart precision. Lines like “can’t eat art” and “exposure doesn’t pay” skewer the empty promises fed to artists, turning the song into a sharp-tongued manifesto against the commodification of creativity.

Amid the chaos, there’s an undercurrent of self-awareness—an acknowledgment of the irony in trying to sell anti-capitalist music within the very system it critiques. It’s a brilliantly layered track: chaotic, clever, and deeply self-reflective, warning the listener while subtly questioning the band’s own place in the cycle.

‘Pig’s Puddin’’ serves as a brief but striking interlude, plunging the listener into a distorted, disorienting soundscape that feels more like an internal battleground than a song. Clocking in as one of the album’s shortest tracks, it’s also one of its most experimental—a warped, haunted piece that wrestles with questions of power and control, both societal and personal.

The heavy distortion and fragmented structure make it a deliberately challenging listen, but its uneasy atmosphere adds a crucial layer to the album’s emotional and thematic depth. It’s a moment of introspection masked in noise, a sonic rupture that lingers.

‘Professionals‘ offers a sharp, satirical take on corporate culture, narrated with a theatrical flair that mimics the polished, performative behaviours expected in the workplace. The track plays like a dual persona—one voice playing the part of the model employee, the other revealing the disillusioned individual beneath.

Midway through, the song breaks sharply, drawing a clear line between façade and reality, as if snapping out of character. This sudden shift reinforces the track’s central tension, while the repeated motto anchors its message with grim clarity. It’s a cleverly constructed piece—part parody, part personal reckoning—that captures the psychological toll of professionalism.

‘Get Back Safe’ delves into the quiet, creeping fears that come with adulthood and fatherhood — the everyday tasks suddenly laced with anxiety, the swirl of self-doubt and protective instinct. It captures the internal monologue of a new dad, overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility and the fragility of life.

The track builds into a heavy, cathartic blast of sound, cutting through the spiral of negative self-talk like a sonic jolt. What follows is a shift toward something more hopeful — a sense that love, especially for a child, can be the force that steadies you, the reason to push through fear and return home safe.

‘Yes Boss’ kicks off with a leery, confrontational energy, led by snarling electric guitars that dominate the mix with a raw, unrelenting presence. The track is heavy and aggressive, steeped in the industrial grit of BIG SPECIAL’S Black Country roots.

There’s a sense of defiance woven through every riff, with the line “patience is costly” cutting through the noise like a warning or a mantra. The guitars are the real driving force here — jagged, distorted, and unapologetically loud — giving the song its weight and attitude. It’s a sonic bulldozer, unflinching in its intensity.

‘Domestic Bliss’ paints a vivid portrait of small-town idealism unravelled, spotlighting troubled characters caught in the quiet chaos of everyday life. The track explores the tension between surface-level stability and the emotional strain that simmers underneath — a kind of “soap opera tragedy” playing out behind closed doors.

It’s one of the more narrative-driven songs on the album, and its rare sung passages offer a striking contrast, showcasing the depth and emotional power of BIG SPECIAL’s vocals. Tender, raw, and quietly devastating, it’s a reflection on the struggle to hold it all together when the illusion of comfort begins to crack. A saxophone interlude makes this track a unique listen and one of the top in the album.

‘Judas Song’ opens with a more traditional rock structure — a slow, moody instrumental build that sets a foreboding tone before the vocals enter. As the track unfolds, it reimagines the figure of Judas through a modern lens, turning betrayal into a broader commentary on trust, disillusionment, and survival.

The refrain “the night will free us, the day is Judas” flips the usual light/dark symbolism, casting daylight as the time of deception and night as a space for honesty or escape. It’s a brooding, thoughtful piece that pairs classic rock intensity with lyrical depth, adding a mythic edge to the album’s emotional landscape.

‘The Beast’ descends into the darkest corners of the album, with crushing, jarring sounds that feel almost violent in their starkness. It’s a raw, deathly track where the speaker fully embraces their own monstrous identity — self-identifying as “the beast” in a moment of brutal self-awareness.

Musically, it’s more stripped back than the rest of the album, with sparse instrumentation that leaves space for dissonance and dread to creep in. The result is harrowing and unrelenting, a bleak confrontation with the self that stands as one of the album’s most emotionally intense moments.

‘I Once Had a Kestrel’ is the album’s shortest and most enigmatic track — a poetic interlude built on a delicate, mysterious synth scale that drifts like a memory. Though brief, it carries symbolic weight: the image of a captive kestrel breaking free speaks to themes of restraint, release, and transformation. The track feels almost dreamlike: a quiet moment of reflection that adds emotional texture to the album’s heavier moments. It’s subtle, poignant, and haunting — a flicker of grace amid the chaos.

‘Thin Horses’ closes the album on a soaring, hopeful note — one of the most anthemic and emotionally direct tracks BIG SPECIAL have delivered. Featuring some of the clearest vocals on the record, it’s a stirring call to openness, generosity, and human connection. With lyrics encouraging listeners to welcome others into their homes and lives, it offers a powerful message about how to live with courage and compassion.

After an album that has swung between chaos, introspection, and confrontation, ‘Thin Horses’ feels like a resolution — a final breath of clarity and optimism. It’s a fitting end to a record defined by its emotional range, closing the curtain not with despair, but with light.