PERTINAX REVIEWS
By Rebecca Cullen
Pertinax – a word meaning to persist, stoically. A divinely interesting title, which quite perfectly represents the mystique and depth of the music within. UK alt-pop band and united couple SURIS return this year, with a full-length album that’s boldly artistic, unexpected, and brilliantly gripping.
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Thirteen original tracks, a creative atmospheric production style that’s unique in both its melodies and tones, Pertinax is a fascinating independent album, from a dream-pop experimental duo whose songwriting consistently explores the unknown in a fresh, poetic fashion. As an introduction to that approach, Mended is superb – an unorthodox set-up, with intimate vocals and a strong groove, a long-form melody blending folk and power-ballad qualities, building towards a simple, snappy and satisfying hook.
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It’s a huge, momentous opening moment, a rising energy that showcases both the versatility of our lead singer, and that of the ever-evolving sound-design and musicianship that supports her. The music is a joy to escape into, genuinely imaginative and original, and then there’s the lyrics – the final resounding sentiment, that nothing is more beautiful than a mended thing. The idea and sound are wonderful, and quickly prompt you to listen back through the full arrangement, to dive into the warmth and concept all the more so.
To describe this band in a shorter frame, SURIS is mysterious but relatable – modest and light to impassioned female vocals, a profoundly colourful array of synths, drums, keys and other instruments, cascading through the airwaves in an ambient to energised way. Meanwhile, the songs and stories meander from unpredictable to pure and catchy, always gathering a momentum and groove that’s uplifting to lose yourself within.
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This description suits the opener, but even more so, it suits the following song Last Train Home pretty perfectly. We begin with intrigue, and wind up amidst an all-together-now explosion of unity and catchy optimism. The unusual and the satisfying walk hand-in-hand, and that makes for a brilliantly refreshing listen. All the while, these concepts and musings, the thoughtful depth and provocative poetry of songs like Now, with its welcomed twist of saxophone (from the very talented Felix Flower), are incredibly moving, inspiring, and effectively linger in the mind – long after the melodies have settled.
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“Did you think a beard would hide your shame” is a sensational opening line, Eruption fearlessly diving into a scornful and confronting story, which again feels as poignantly original, quirky, and catchy as ever. Then we move into something uplifting and hopeful, for Whole, before the soaring rock swagger and snappy lines of Take all she brings inject a vibrancy and an earworm that’s addictive to let play.
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The creativity of the project continues to exceed itself, as Huma delivers an other-worldly, atmospheric gem of a track, with a depth of both design and concept that’s powerful. The song tips its hat to the likes of Pink Floyd, Queen and Kate Bush, in its poetic and powerful scene and artistry. We then move into a more familiar, calming sense of reflection and piano-led intimacy, for Still Life – ultimately an energised anthem, which is no doubt superb to witness in the live setting.
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During the album’s second half, a touch of something Tori Amos-like leans towards a more classic ballad, for the unforgettable and impassioned Armour of Love. Then we’re taken on a more stirring journey, for the again provocative and intriguing Listen – a big-band crescendo elevating the progression of the song in an unignorable and impactful manner.
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At the penultimate moment, Born to be with you is divinely performed – piano and voice, riding bass, a rising rhythm, a self-confronting introspection and resulting brightness and power that’s euphoric. Then to finish, unique keys and natural-world fragments lay down a compelling new scene and story, for the creatively poignant poem and supreme musical build up of Fugue; one of several personal favourites.
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Of all the albums to cross the airwaves this summer, Pertinax is easily the one that most notably prompts you to spend more time with it. A single listen does not suffice, and these ideas, melodies and outbursts stay with you, and leave you wanting to re-explore the intricacies of the full journey.
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Why this title? What connects these ideas and feelings? There’s so much to unpack, and yet at the same time, the cinematic presence and performative charm of the project lets the music simply engage with and entertain its listener. In short, Pertinax is stunning, and impressively free in its artistic and playful creativity.
By Ian Ureta of Alte Magazine
On Pertinax, Suris Are Out Here Writing Songs About Feeling Too Much
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There’s something quietly rebellious about an album like Pertinax. Suris, composed of the duo of Lindsey and David Mackie, have decided to make something defiantly sincere. It’s the sound of two people who have been doing this long enough to know better, but went ahead and did it anyway.
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“Pertinax” literally means “resolute,” which is fitting, because this album refuses to apologize for caring deeply about things. It’s a record full of lush arrangements, dramatic vocals, and uncomfortably honest songwriting; the kind of thing that makes you realize how allergic most modern music has become to risk.
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The first track, “Mended,” arrives like a transmission from a different era, the place where 70s mysticism and 80s romanticism got drunk together and forgot to go home. Lindsey Mackie sounds like Stevie Nicks if she’d fronted Purity Ring, while David’s production layers shimmering synths and guitar textures that teeter between comfort and unease. The song’s title is optimistic, but the tone isn’t quite; it’s about trying to put yourself back together when the world keeps handing you the wrong pieces. It’s the perfect thesis statement for the album: beauty and ruin, cohabiting politely.
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“Last Train Home” picks up the tempo, and suddenly you’re in what sounds like an Arcade Fire B-side; if Arcade Fire had the restraint to stop shouting about suburbia for five minutes. The track pulses with urgency but avoids the self-importance that usually comes with that territory. It’s cinematic, but not in a “look, we’ve got string sections!” way; more like the cinematic feeling of being the only person left on the last carriage home, staring at your reflection and wondering if you’ve already missed something important.
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“Whole” is the point where the album leans into its art-rock credentials. It’s the most obviously Kate Bush-adjacent track here, but what makes it work is Lindsey’s vocal delivery; unguarded to the point of it being conversational, like she’s telling you something too personal but can’t help herself. There’s a fragility in how she phrases the chorus, a kind of emotional risk that feels rare these days. You can tell this isn’t a song built for playlists; it’s one of those tracks that sits quietly in your brain until it decides to hurt you a bit later.
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Then there’s “Take All She Brings,” which opens with an upbeat, jangly rhythm that could almost fool you into thinking it’s a feel-good track. Spoiler: it’s not. It’s a song about giving too much of time, of love, of energy and realizing that nobody’s coming to refill the tank. It’s got this Florence + The Machine-before-the-theatrics energy, all tambourine and ache. It’s one of the album’s standouts because it weaponizes charm; it sounds sweet, but there’s poison in the sugar.
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The back half of Pertinax settles into reflection. “Born to Be With You” is a slow, smoky ballad that feels like early Bowie after a long night of thinking too much. It’s patient, self-contained, and utterly sincere. Lindsey’s voice — rich, slightly cracked, full of restraint — carries it effortlessly. It’s a song about companionship, but not in the Hallmark sense; it’s about the quiet, unglamorous kind of love that survives the weather.
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And then there’s “Fugue.” Oh, “Fugue.” This is the part of the album where Suris stop pretending they’re playing by anyone’s rules. It’s huge, weird, and operatic; imagine if Celine Dion and Björk tried to write a song together, and somehow it worked. The song builds into this layered, dizzying crescendo that feels like a reckoning. Not a conclusion, but an unravelling. It’s the album’s final statement, a reminder that art doesn’t have to resolve to mean something. Sometimes you just end on a sustained note and let it haunt people.
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What makes Pertinax compelling isn’t just that it’s technically flawless; it’s that it feels lived in. You can hear the fingerprints all over it. The production is detailed but never sterile; the performances are passionate without drifting into melodrama. Suris don’t sound like they’re chasing a sound; they sound like they’ve already found it, years ago, and just decided to polish it into the shape of who they are now.
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What’s more interesting is how Suris take all those influences and fold them into something unmistakably human. There’s no irony here, no wink at the camera. Pertinax is, at its core, a record about being earnest in an age that keeps trying to convince you not to be.
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That might be why it hits so hard. Because while everyone else is busy making clever music about detachment, Suris are out here writing songs about feeling too much. And that’s what makes Pertinax special: it’s not trying to be relevant. It’s trying to be real.
By Plastic Magazine
Suris is the musical project of Lindsey and David Mackie, a creative duo from the UK whose work brings together the worlds of atmospheric storytelling and intricate musicianship. Both musicians, composers and producers, they’ve spent years forging a sound that feels timeless and quietly subversive, offering music that shimmers with melodic beauty while carrying something deeper, darker and more human beneath the surface. Built on Lindsey’s vocals and piano compositions and David’s deft guitar work and production, Suris create immersive and thoroughly unique soundscapes.
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Their collaboration began in their early marriage, though their musical connection predates it; the pair first met as students at the University of East Anglia, crossing paths at a benefit gig for Vietnamese boat people with Lindsey fronting The Clynics, a Siouxsie-meets-Blondie outfit and David on guitar for the punk band Capitalist Music. Both acts appeared on the local compilation Welcome to Norwich – A Fine City, a fitting early sign of two artists destined to merge creative paths. Since then, their musical partnership has become an extension of their life together, developing, persevering and expanding across decades of shared experience.
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Their sound has often drawn comparisons to artists such as Radiohead, Imogen Heap, Portishead, Kate Bush and Massive Attack, but Suris remain entirely their own. Their songs balance the cinematic and the intimate, the modern and the enduring and while Lindsey’s voice carries an emotive warmth and lyrical reflection, David’s arrangements build the sonic framework. Together, they explore the space between emotion and strength, using music as a form of consideration and persistence.
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Capturing their sound in the studio over the last five years, they made heir entrance in 2020 with the debut single “Argus,” which they’ve since followed with several singles and full-length records. Now they bring us their latest release with their brand new album titled Pertinax, presenting a thirteen-track voyage through their highly original sound.
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Suris open their new album with “Mended,” a profoundly personal piece penned while Lindsey was isolating with Covid, crafting a track that reflects on human fragility and the determination that follows life’s unpredictable turns. Inspired by the Japanese art of Kintsugi, it embraces the beauty of imperfection, the idea that cracks and scars tell our stories rather than diminish them. Wrapped up in a hopeful sound of soothing melodies, steady rhythmic energy and colourful arrangement of bright instrumentation, it’s a catchy jam that puts their songwriting appeal and retro-tinged sound on full display.
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“Last Train Home” follows with warmth and perspective, offering a sense of renewal and love’s steady guidance through familiar landscapes. Wrapped up in a dazzling soundscape of pulsing basslines, tapped percussion and bouncy piano backing, Lindsey’s expressive voice soars above to cast a spectacular experience of jazz-tinged vintage pop music.
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On “Now,” the duo slow the pace, reminding us to cherish the poignant moments that make life meaningful, delivering a heartfelt musical moment that shines with memorable melodies and elegant instrumentation. Other highlights include songs like “Take All She Brings,” one of the record’s most understated yet thoughtful pieces, a reminder of the complexity and beauty within every person captured in a lively arrangement of punchy drums and infectious vocal performance.
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“Huma” slowly drifts into focus before taking flight in emphatic fashion, offering an ambitious track about a mythical bird escaping confinement, lifted by a stunning saxophone solo from rising talent Felix Flower. Later, “Listen” offers a moment of grounding, encouraging presence and genuine connection in an increasingly distracted world. Finally, “Fugue” brings the album to a meditative close, tracing a sleepless night through anxiety and fear before arriving at dawn and the hope it brings, laying down the perfect finale to conclude the band’s incredible new LP.
It's not difficult to become intoxicated by the song's introductory melodic context. Conceived around a sharp sound that, curiously, strongly resembles the awakening of Ozzy Osbourne's single "Mr. Tinkertrain," the song invariably invites the listener to venture into an ecosystem of introspective energy. Delicate in its keyboard cadence, the track matures without escalating in its performance, encompassing not only the energetic aspect, but also the melodic, rhythmic, and harmonic. In contrast, the moment a slightly deep female voice emerges, it delivers a generous dose of languor. With a shaking and slightly rough texture offered by the rattle against the percussive spectrum, the work boasts a more palpable rhythmic pace, albeit within a softened landscape. Mended presents itself as a work that ventures into a linear sonic landscape, but which, fortunately, does not diminish its esoteric character in any way.
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Surprisingly, what happens right from the first sound introductory note of the song is that the listener perceives the piano as acting as percussion, suggesting the rhythmic beat to be followed by the other instruments. Through its low-pitched notes, the element ends up giving the atmosphere not only density, but a striking and intriguing dark touch. The interesting thing here is to notice that, as it evolves, the song explores a theatrical scenography that, at the same time, flirts with a new wave à la Queen and in the style of Fleetwood Mac. Delicate and carefully sweetened, "Last Train Home" is graced by simple percussive elements and a drum kit that displays a charmingly intimate rhythmic tempo based on the opaque sound echoed by the blows on the snare drum. Guaranteeing a subtle degree of sensuality due to the movement adopted by the hi-hat, the track has, in the synthesizer, that element responsible for enveloping it in breezy nuances of a comfortably intoxicating nature.
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The transcendental and torpor walk hand in hand from the immediate awakening of the composition due to the sonic nature offered by the synthesizer. However, as it develops, the song allows itself to be carried away by a simple rhythmic-melodic scope, yet one that instills striking doses of sensuality. With a slightly classicist, yet unquestionably refined and charming landscape, this ecosystem places the listener in direct contact with seductively hypnotic glimpses of jazz. It is precisely at this moment that Now becomes intoxicated by a refreshing and velvety subtlety, fragilely exposed by the violin waltzes.
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It's impossible for the listener not to be seduced by the sonic landscape that shapes the introduction of this track. This is because it's governed by a syncopated, yet adorably vulnerable rhythmic compass, in perfect unison with the melody developed by the piano. Sensual and, consequently, seductive, the song brazenly plays with the listener by offering moments of crescendo that, upon reaching their peak, instead of exploding into an energetic and poignant instrumental, return to the same undulating, introspective structure sketched mainly by the piano. Even so, even in terms of lyricism, the cadence followed is the same offered by the dry touch of the hi-hat. With moments of drama, Eruption also allows itself to unveil its melancholic emotional side without deviating from the slight vivacity it offers.
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The synthetic sound weaves through a slightly acidic sharpness that allows the listener to perceive fleeting folk hints in the developing composition's structure. Dramatic due to the presence of violin sounds, but not necessarily under poignant silhouettes, the track reveals a deep and touching sentimentality sketched in a visceral way by the lyrical interpretation assumed by the vocalist. With slightly melancholic nuances, it's interesting to note that, in a rather audacious way, "Whole" exudes penetrating romantic aromas on the verge of assuming a sticky texture.
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Here is a vibrant ecosystem, if it can indeed be characterized as such. Engaging and exciting, it rests on a classic harmonic-rhythmic foundation reminiscent of 18th-century ballroom dances. Suggesting refinement and extravagance, details enhanced by the presence of the guitar and its slightly shrill, high-pitched tuning, the song immerses the listener in a rhythmic tempo based on the blues, which invariably lends it a good dose of structural smoothness. Contagious and danceable, but far from being graced by any kind of sensationalism, "Takes All She Brings" offers the listener a menu enveloped mainly in the irresistible and seductive flavor of art rock.
The sound that governs the introductory landscape of this song strongly recalls that eccentric and bucolic sound extracted from a cattle horn. At the same time, this same briefly melodic touch is capable of enveloping the listener in the transcendental amidst a nature that is also capable of being ethereal. Consensually, the song walks through a delicate, introspective, and slightly dramatic foundation, defended exclusively by the way the singer interprets the lyrical narrative. Delicate, yet dense, Huma can offer an ecosystem that is both witty and profoundly intimate.
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Here is a product that offers a truly memorable sonic journey. Pertinax is not just a product that invites the listener to walk through the utopian, to unveil the ethereal, or to study the transcendental. It uses the mystical, the serene, and the delicate to explore feelings inherent in comfort and coziness, but also in drama and melancholy.
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And that's hard to find these days. It's difficult to find a product capable of immersing the listener in such complex sonic and structural environments, even if they sound, on the surface, simple and minimalist. It's no coincidence that each of the 13 tracks in Pertinax is like a whole new world unfolding before the listener's sensibilities.
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To achieve this result so brilliantly, Suris, in the form of Lindsey and David Mackie, took distant flights towards experimentation. From there, Pertinax had its rhythmic-harmonic-melodic structure created, matured, and disseminated through the union of sonic landscapes such as art rock, psychedelic rock, dream pop, and slight remnants of alternative rock, which is quite noticeable in the progression of the first seven tracks that make up the material.
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Allow yourself. Pertinax is a gateway to another world. The world of utopia. Of the spiritual. Of the ethereal and the transcendental. Shedding the dense layer of worry brought on by the modern world is a prerequisite for experiencing this album in its purest essence and magnitude.