Cameron Picton Believes in Rock Theatrics in ‘My New Band Believe’

Through fairytale-esque tangents and naturalistic soundscapes, My New Band Believe’s self-titled album pushes the listener into the unknown — in the best ways possible. 

Released April 10, the project is helmed by former black midi member Cameron Picton and was recorded in the midst of the band’s disbandment in August 2024.

The eponymous album opens with “Target Practice,” whose innocent storybook-like presentation contrasts its violent, vengeance-filled lyricism.

“If we see you on a spike with holes for your eyes / We’ll just keep practicing our aim,” Picton gleefully sings, evoking images of a forced, teeth-grinding smile. 

The track’s simple guitar strums and spirited strings give way to a crashing orchestral wave and chorus of impassioned voices, rivaling even the most grandiose of theatrical openers.

With a sudden jolt of cacophony, “In the Blink of an Eye” bolts in. A complete 180-degree turn from the previous song, Picton’s no longer a coldly calculated, revenge-seeking assassin, but a paranoid man whose impending breakup drives him to derangement. 

Pittering’s plucks and skittish drums add to the stomach-churning anxiety, accompanied by his uncontrolled, neurotic ramblings that build in furor and intensity as the song progresses.

Picton’s vocal inflections and tones are enough to classify the album as theatrical, but the way his gravely yet smooth voice interacts with the band’s instrumentation transforms an experimental rock song into a full-fledged Broadway cast recording.

“Heart of Darkness” is characterized by its sonic instability, sloshing through varying song structures, instrumental passages and lyrical topics. There’s no unifying factor, but a scattered collage of projected insecurities and anxieties. 

Despite having the longest runtime on the project, clocking in at eight and a half minutes, the song fails to have a single identity, leaving it to sulk in the shadows of an otherwise tight tracklist — especially when the last third is an uneventful, stagnant instrumental outro. 

Nonetheless, the album functions as a sonic pinboard for Picton’s musical influences, tacking one-liners or interpolations from other songs for his own record. Nowhere is this clearer than on the lead single “Love Story,” a brutally intimate account of a romance, which borrows its melody from fellow Rough Trade act Jockstrap’s Sexy 2.

Gone is Picton’s frantic paranoia — here, through delicately banal vignettes of domestic life, he recounts his profound admiration for his partner, viscerally minute details adding layers of amorous depth.

“Chopping tomatoes while you wash the rice,” Picton sings, with a soft yet poignantly passionate delivery. “You sing along to your favorite songs / But you don’t know the words, so you make up your own.”

After a mid-song interlude teeming with sounds of dissipating creaks and sporadic plucks, a hazy, dream-like stained glass of pure admiration is shattered by the painful reality of the third verse.

Removed from the safety and contentment of their routine, the couple is placed in Gaza, assuming the roles of Palestinian lovers, torn apart by Israel’s ongoing genocide of the area.   

“Under the phosphorus light, I cannot find you,” Picton sings, alluding to the relentless barrage of bombings launched toward the Palestinian people. “You are the love of my life.”

Despite its luxurious title, “Pearls” is downright unnerving, its instrumental palette full of grating dissonance, exasperated breaths and tiers of discordant sounds. Similarly, the track’s lyrics pulsate between biblical allusions and nearly nonsensical prose. 

At one point, the audio completely cuts out, leaving a moment of dead space presumably meant for dramatic effect that sounds as if the mastering engineer’s hand slipped. 

Returning to the sumptuous bursts of orchestration, Picton talks directly to a caricature of his parents, trying to forge his own life’s trajectory and unlearn the lessons they taught him as if they were his “Opposite Teacher.” 

With each passing verse, the track’s instrumentation builds upon itself, transforming from simple plucking guitars to an explosion of emancipatory shouts and soaring strings.

On “Actress,” an eight-minute-long character study centering around a decaying relationship, Picton plays the part of a neglected partner in the shadows of his fame-chasing girlfriend. While he celebrates her newfound success, he laments that it’s at the cost of their love. 

As she becomes more and more famous, he falls deeper and deeper into isolation, Picton’s already timid voice bowing under the emotional weight. In a stark contrast, when singing from the perspective of the titular character, his voice instantly brightens, the composition erupting into a snappy, showtuney energy. 

Finally fed up, Picton’s character starts to express his desire for independence, not before his fame-drunk subject shows her final, true form — a fire-breathing dragon. 

“How can you tell the truth, when all you ever do is lie?” Picton sings from the mouth of the companion. “But girl, you’re flying way too fast / Speak of the dragon and the dragon shall appear at last.” 

In an impassioned fit of rage, fueled by overflowing feelings of rejection and climactic instrumentation, he conquers the creature, finally free from the furious flames of a toxic relationship. 

A bellowing bass clarinet underscores a repetitive acoustic guitar, while a “One Night” stand slowly blossoms into a full-fledged relationship. Picton’s delicate whispers and unconventional lyrics leave the outro feeling unlike any of the previous songs — he’s no longer playing a character, but speaking from his own soul.

Despite recurring lulls in the form of unnecessary ambient interludes within and between melodies, My New Band Believe’s self-titled album is a collection of folk-tinged tracks whose eccentric and unorthodox songwriting challenges how romance can be portrayed through song. 

“My New Band Believe” is available to stream everywhere.