We live in a musical era that is profoundly afraid of silence. Modern production tends to treat an empty space as a flaw to be corrected, filling every millisecond with hyper-compressed synths and vocals engineered to scream for attention. It takes an immense amount of creative courage to step away from all that noise and trust that a single melody can carry the weight of a broken heart. Yet, that is precisely what Chris Bull achieves on his release Resolution, the captivating third single from his London-based project, Every other weekend.
Chris Bulls musical life was defined by the driving energy of a full band and this project is an intimate affair. To understand the weight of this release, you might have to understand where it evolved from. Written in the wake of a personal storm —the painful closing chapter of Bull’s first marriage, the eventual breakup of City Reign and the devastating loss of his father. When life changes beyond recognition, music can either be a painful reminder of the past or an exit out of the pain. For Bull, it was the latter, though it required him to step away from the noise before he could find his voice again.
The track opens up with a singular striking line “There’s a freedom in the eyes of strangers, a freedom from the sins you hold” and immediately drops every listener into a headspace of vulnerability. Rather than spiraling into a complex narrative, the music does the talking. The entire song anchors itself into a gorgeous, cyclical piano motif- a piece of music Bull notes simply “fallen out of the sky” while he was trying to regroup.
The Piano does not only introduce the track, it lifts the chorus entirely. Every other weekend allows the emotional gravity of the piece to bloom without force. Everything flows naturally, shifting the track into a universally relatable snapshot.
The story behind how the recording was captured explains the warmth. The recording process itself became an act of preservation and tribute. Setup in his mother’s garage, Bull self-produced the track using his late father’s vintage recording gear. He wasn’t entirely alone in the garage, though, he enlisted the keen ears of his close friend Mick Morrison to help capture the energy.
The guitarist Mike Grice also added to the natural energy and acted as a brilliant counterpoint to the steady weight of the piano. It gave a gentle texture and an undeniable momentum, beautifully mimicking the internal process of healing; Slow, steady and moving forward even when it hurts.
In today’s world of music, there’s an insane pressure to perform, explain our lives on digital screens and drown out anxiety with noise. Resolution gently holds up a hand and asks for a time out. It might not have the answers to life’s tragedies, nor does it wrap up grief in a neat, tidy bow. Instead, it offers a collective deep breath.
This is a reminder that there is profound strength in vulnerability and sometimes, the most beautiful things happen when we stop trying to micro-manage our lives and simply let the pieces land where they may. Resolution is an exquisite piece of indie-folk and it’s a piece that stays with you, humming quietly in the back of your mind long after the final chord fades into black.
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