REVIEW: The Resurrection Club – ‘Survival’

There’s something gloriously defiant about The Resurrection Club. Three friends who last shared a room in 1983 have somehow delivered one of the most emotionally charged, forward-facing records of the year, without once standing side by side in the studio.

Martin McLeish, Morris Fraser, and Mike Paterson first cut their teeth in Glasgow’s post-punk underground as teenagers. Life scattered them to Edinburgh, Barcelona, and Melbourne. But when contact was rekindled between Martin and Morris, it felt like there was still unfinished business between them.

Built entirely across continents, the album pulses with urgency. Guitars slash and shimmer, rhythms throb with restless energy, and electronic textures swirl around lyrics that refuse to look away from the modern world’s fractures. Songs like opener ‘Every Second Counts’ carries a simmering frustration that feels almost combustible, while ‘Survival Pt. 1&2’ stands tall with a stubborn refusal to bow out.

What elevates this record is its emotional clarity. You can hear the years in McLeish’s delivery as Fraser’s musicianship anchors the chaos with intention, sliceing through with both elegance and bite. Under the guidance of producer Robin Twelftree, the sound expands into something cinematic yet visceral as it plays.

In an era obsessed with polish and perfection, ‘Survival’ feels thrillingly human. It’s messy in the right places, bold where it matters, and utterly sincere. And now forty-plus years later, The Resurrection Club have reignited what they probably thought was lost forever.