There’s a tension in Later Than You Think that feels almost cinematic—like the moment in a film when the protagonist realizes they’re in too deep, but instead of retreating, they push forward. Goddamn Wolves doesn’t just perform this track; they unleash it. From the opening pulse of the drums, there’s an urgency that grips the listener, not in a frantic way, but in a way that demands attention. The song doesn’t merely build—it surges, pulling you into its restless undercurrent.
At its core, Later Than You Think is a controlled explosion of sound, brimming with frustration, defiance, and an undeniable need for change. The guitars oscillate between jagged riffs and atmospheric sweeps, creating a sonic landscape that mirrors the emotional whirlwind of the lyrics. The drumming—sharp, precise, and relentless—acts as the backbone, holding everything together even as the song teeters on the edge of chaos. There’s a rawness here, a sense that every note is being pushed to its limit without ever tipping into excess.
Chris Weilding and Laura McCullough’s dual vocals bring a striking contrast—his voice carrying a weary, almost pleading urgency, while hers cuts through with a sharper, more defiant edge. Together, they embody the song’s themes of disillusionment and resilience, playing off each other in a way that feels both intimate and anthemic. Their harmonies are not just beautiful; they’re necessary, reinforcing the emotional weight behind every lyric. Later Than You Think doesn’t just dwell in uncertainty—it wrestles with it. There’s an awareness of time slipping away, of opportunities lost or squandered, but instead of sinking into despair, the song channels that unease into something powerful. The chorus, with its anthemic swell, doesn’t offer easy answers, but it doesn’t need to. It’s a rallying cry for anyone who has ever felt trapped between where they are and where they want to be.
With Later Than You Think, Goddamn Wolves solidify themselves as more than just an indie rock band with great hooks—they are storytellers, architects of sound, and purveyors of catharsis. This is the kind of music that doesn’t just ask to be heard; it demands to be felt.
