There’s something very warm and familiar about Paper Thick Walls. Seeing them live is like reconnecting with a childhood friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s sitting down for dinner with the relatives (that you like) and reminiscing about the past. It’s the nostalgia of things no longer around seen through innocent, truly authentic eyes. Like a comfy musical blanket, the sounds of Paper Thick Walls encapsulate you and take you to a land where it’s ok to get lost in your surroundings.
Once you do get lost in it, you’ll realise just how magical the world created by Paper Thick Walls is. It’s a behind the scenes look at the human condition. A backstage pass to intimacy – like being invisible and observing animals in their natural habitat. There’s no pomp, no circumstance, just raw emotional authenticity. Hands were clapped raw. Drums were properly assaulted. Eyes were locked. Souls were bared. Guitars, bass and mandolin were picked, pulled and plucked. Ivory was gently pounded. Voices dilated phonetically, frenetically. Tears were shed.
Make no mistake about it though, this isn’t folk, rock, pop or even indie in their accepted forms. Throughout the show, they draw from each of them in an almost nostalgic way. It’s familiar, but somehow completely new. Connecting to the audience on an almost unconscious level, Paper Thick Walls led everyone through the somber, the haunting, the melodic, the uncertain and the fun in a foot-tapping, hand-clapping sing along that felt like a live taping of VH1 Storytellers. Yes, it was that good.