There is something quietly brave about starting again.
Chris Bull, formerly the front man of Manchester indie rockers City Reign, returns under the name Every Other Weekend carrying the weight of personal history. Listening to “Memories,” the second single from the forthcoming debut album All Present and Inept, I do not hear a flashy reinvention. I hear someone carefully rebuilding their relationship with music from the ground up.
Bull’s path back to songwriting was anything but straightforward. After the death of his father and musical mentor in 2015, the breakup of his band in 2016, and the breakdown of his marriage the following year, writing songs became tangled up with grief. When creativity is so closely tied to loss, even picking up a guitar can feel heavy. Relocating to his native London in 2018, training to become a lawyer by day and living back at home, he slowly began rediscovering his voice. Hook by hook. Lyric by lyric.
That slow return is what gives “Memories” its emotional depth. The song asks a deceptively simple question: what would remain if all the paperwork flew away? It is an image that captures the contrast Bull lived through. By day he was surrounded by contracts and documents. At night he was leafing through family photo albums, allowing himself to grieve and reflect. You can feel that tension in the music. There is a sense of weighing what is recorded against what is remembered.
What stands out to me is the restraint. “Memories” does not lean on melodrama. Instead, it feels thoughtful and grounded. The lyrics reflect a mind trying to make sense of truth, identity, and the stories we tell ourselves. Bull has spoken about questioning collective ideas of truth in a world dominated by loud voices and strong personalities. The song feels like a quiet counterpoint to that noise. It suggests that our own lived memories, however fragile, matter more than the narratives imposed from outside.
The upcoming album All Present and Inept, due in early 2026, represents seven years of work. That time is evident in the maturity of the songwriting. There is no rush here, no desperate attempt to recapture past glory. Instead, it sounds like someone rediscovering the simple joy of playing music again. And that is perhaps the most powerful element of all.
The closing sentiment attached to the project resonates deeply: we are anxious, struggling to connect, taking life too seriously. So why not just play some music? It feels both gentle and defiant. In a culture obsessed with productivity and performance, choosing to create for the sake of connection can be a radical act.
Every Other Weekend does not feel like a side project. To me, it sounds like reclamation. Not a dramatic comeback, but a steady, heartfelt return to something honest.
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