B-Side Guys

While dating apps reduce human connection to swipes and algorithms quantify compatibility, WOAHGETTER’s latest single posits a provocative question: If even the most emotionally withholding father figure places nominal bets on love’s existence, what does that reveal about our collective desperation to believe?

This Northampton-based nine-piece alt-indie collective delivers their self-described “Literate Indie Baroque and Roll” with surgical precision on “Even Dad Had A Fiver On Love,” their third release via Silent Kid Records. The track constructs a fever dream of postmodern alienation disguised as interior monologue—one that gradually unspools before a metaphorical mirror, reflecting both narrator and listener in its unforgiving glass.

Musically, WOAHGETTER creates controlled chaos through seemingly disparate elements: angular guitars slice through lush chamber strings while an end-of-tether baritone anchors the composition, surrounded by five genetically unrelated voices that function as a Greek chorus commenting on love’s limitations. This cacophony of perspective creates moments both “danceable and momentarily anthemic,” yielding a soundscape that feels simultaneously intimate and expansive.

What distinguishes this relatively new collective is their intellectual fearlessness. Rather than merely hinting at philosophical underpinnings, they explicitly reference Sartre’s concept of “The Look” and Rilke’s Letter Seven, transforming intellectual curiosity into emotional texture. These references aren’t pretentious window dressing but recursive self-portraits encouraging listeners toward their own examination of love’s nebulous definition.

“The chorus reflects a relatable frustration towards the meaning of love and how to find it in an increasingly chaotic world,” the band explains, and this sentiment permeates every layer of the production. If their description of themselves as students who “learned the lesson, then blew up the classroom” after hypothetical masterclasses from The National and Father John Misty seems self-aggrandizing, the music largely justifies the comparison.

For a collective still establishing their identity with just three singles, WOAHGETTER displays remarkable coherence in their artistic vision. Their reputation for “electrifying live sets strewn with playful nods to performance art and vaudeville” suggests they understand that philosophical inquiry needn’t exclude theatrical joy. In betting that audiences will embrace both intellectual complexity and emotional vulnerability, WOAHGETTER places a wager far larger than any father’s casual fiver—and the odds appear increasingly in their favor.