RARE BREW REVIEWS
By Rebecca Cullen
Long-time favourites Suris once again refuse to disappoint, releasing perhaps their most addictively interesting, melodically enchanting project yet.
The album Rare Brew showcases the UK-based duo at their very best, and promises a lasting collection of songs that continuously raise the bar for expressive, purposeful and alluring writing.
Astrosurf makes for a brilliant opener. A little Kate Bush-esque in tone and the contrast from delicacy to passion, the piano inflections, the melody and story.
Impact is maximised as the piece evolves, intriguing with its imagery and implications along the way. Even the subtle shifts from brightness to melancholy work well to keep things creative and fresh. The drama and pace of that middle-8 shift is also really well-crafted in furthering the uplift of the final section.
Shifting gears immediately is the follow-up This Is The City – dark and stylish, vocally gritty and captivating for imagery and short-lined progressions alike; easily memorable, catchy, and resolving beautifully for that chorus. ‘Walk don’t run’ resounds perfectly and quickly lures you in for a sing along.
Unexpected as ever, Suris lay the foundation for a consistently impressive, fearlessly original album, with songwriting as a clear strength but creative freedom and experimentation no doubt closely intertwined.
Things mellow out somewhat for Great Wide Open, and all the more so for a sultry Big Ship. Fleetwood Mac-esque as before, perhaps with hints of The Pretenders, yet still more notably rooted amidst the Suris sound and catalogue of artistry. Always these eighties rhythms and reverb-kissed vocals, the depths and the vastness, feels true to the band – alongside their uniquely expressive, fascinating writing.
Highlights include the piano-led story and heartfelt, empowering beauty of Hellion, a personal favourite, and the seductive rise and fall of an intimate and romantic Riverman; again evolving from simplicity to fullness in compelling waves of embrace.
Juxtaposition is also masterfully utilised throughout, Warrior Queen proving a fine example – from haunting minimalism to theatrical intensity and passionate, powerful rock presence.
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And as a closer, All Over Again is stunning – melodically quirky, simple, stylish, lyrically profound and inspiring – a song that rightfully leaves a lingering sense of contemplation, hopefully prompting stronger appreciation for the moment and the time that we have left. Another favourite, and the perfect way to end.
Musically supreme, endlessly original, gifting a sense of escapism and soul from the outset but later, on revisit, offering more and more lyrical insight and inspiration; complexities that reach out with increasing warmth each time you return.
The whole thing is superb, in short. Easily one of the best, most refreshing albums of the year thus far. Some threads remain to be discovered, the overall concept of Rare Brew to the details and poetry of the lyrics perhaps. Fortunately though, the music is a dream to listen to, so revisiting is a pleasure. Enjoy.
By Ian Ureta of Alte Magazine
Ultimately, Rare Brew Isn’t About Nostalgia So Much as Endurance
With recent album 'Pertinax', Suris made a record that was almost embarrassingly earnest. It didn’t wink at you. It didn’t sound like it was written by a committee trying to forecast next week’s Spotify trend. It just existed, lush and vulnerable, the sound of two people who actually cared. The result felt old-fashioned in the best way: proof that sincerity can still be punk if you mean it.
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Now, with Rare Brew, the Mackies return; not with a sequel, but something closer to an anthology. It’s a re-release of the songs that have lingered in their catalogue for years, now remastered with the kind of attention only artists who’ve lived inside their own work can give. It’s an album about growth, but not the measurable kind. Think of it as a retrospective filtered through time, emotion, and sharper mastering tools.
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If Pertinax was about resilience and holding on when everything’s collapsing, Rare Brew is about reflection: looking back at what you made and realizing it still matters. The title isn’t subtle, and that’s the point. This is an album that knows it’s an acquired taste and refuses to apologize for it.
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The opener, “Astrosurf,” sounds like a hymn for people who no longer believe but still miss the feeling. It’s baroque-pop in the Kate Bush sense; grand, theatrical, and just weird enough to be funny. There’s a gospel undertone beneath the synths, a ghostly choir humming from another room. Lindsey’s vocals hover between prayer and performance, while Dave builds a soundscape that feels both ancient and digital; like Fleetwood Mac discovering MIDI in the Renaissance. It’s a dense, intoxicating first sip.
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Then comes “This Is The City,” the musical equivalent of a perfectly tailored coat hiding pockets full of anxiety. On the surface, it’s smooth; sophisti-pop chords, funk guitars that would make early Maroon 5 jealous, but underneath, something’s twitching. It’s the sound of modernity with a hangover. The production feels lived-in, like walking through a city you know too well, where even the streetlights seem tired.
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“Great Wide Open” is where Rare Brew hits its theatrical stride. Imagine Björk producing Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” after reading too much eco-philosophy. The song builds and breaks like a wave, all reverb and revelation, leaving you suspended in a wash of sound that feels like an ending you didn’t see coming. It’s cinematic, but not in the “look, we’ve got strings!” sense. It’s big because it believes it’s allowed to be.
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After that widescreen moment, “Scaur Bank” brings things back to intimacy. Piano, voice, and the kind of lyricism that doesn’t bother to explain itself. Lindsey sings like she’s thinking out loud, and Dave’s guitar replies like an old friend who knows when to fill the silence. It’s small in scale but huge in feeling; the kind of song that sneaks up on you three listens later and stays there.
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By “Absolute Zero,” the album’s quiet rebellion fully lands. It plays like a love letter to Fleetwood Mac written by people who understood the sadness behind the California sheen. The melody feels familiar, like something you’ve half-remembered from another life, but the production resists nostalgia; minor chords that never quite resolve, harmonies slightly out of focus. It’s the sound of watching a home movie and realizing you don’t remember being that happy.
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And then there’s “Last Fish In The Sea.” Playful melody, aquatic imagery, whimsy on the surface, but listen closely and it’s heartbreak in disguise. Imagine Stevie Nicks singing “Part of Your World” after reading too much climate science. The track feels like a fairy tale drowning in its own metaphor. Lindsey’s voice carries the ache of someone who still wants to believe in magic but knows it’s probably gone extinct. It’s quietly devastating.
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The closer, “All Over Again,” ties it all together with cruel symmetry. Jangle-pop wrapped around melancholy; a deceptively upbeat song about emotional recursion, about making the same mistakes because they’re the ones that still feel real. The guitars shimmer, the rhythm sways, and just as catharsis approaches, it ends; not abruptly, but like someone turning off the light mid-sentence. It’s not despair; it’s restraint.
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What makes Rare Brew special isn’t just the songwriting or polish; it’s the refusal to pretend. You can hear the years in these recordings: the imperfections, the moments where emotion beats technique, the sense that these songs were made because they had to be. Every track carries fingerprints.
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Where Pertinax was about standing firm, Rare Brew is about what follows; the quiet confidence of artists who no longer need to prove anything. The Mackies aren’t chasing relevance; they’re documenting a process. You can hear the dialogue between their past and present selves in every mix, every newly opened frequency range.
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Dave’s remastering doesn’t sanitize the recordings; it reveals their bones. The mix has air, depth, time. Lindsey’s rich, textured, unmistakably human voice sits at the center, not as performance but as presence. It’s as if the album itself is breathing again.
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Ultimately, Rare Brew isn’t about nostalgia so much as endurance. While everyone else is busy making clever music about detachment, Suris are writing songs about feeling too much and meaning it. That’s the trick of Rare Brew. It’s not rare because it’s hard to find. It’s rare because it’s honest.​
Reviews of 'Absolute Zero' Video
By Michael McCarthy
"Absolute Zero” is the second single from SURIS’ album. And what a glorious single it is. Duo Lindsey and Dave Mackie — a real life couple — have truly created something special with Rare Brew, which we’ll be reviewing shortly. In the meantime, we just had to turn you onto “Absolute Zero,” which is one of the most stunning and breath-taking songs we’ve stumbled upon in months.
Lindsey’s voice has a very unique sound yet sounds instantly familiar. And she’s capable of making you feel multiple emotions all within the course of a single song, her voice sometimes seductive, sometimes standoffish and alternating between sounding grounded and ethereal. That’s quite a gift. Clearly, she was destined to make music and when we listen to “Absolute Zero” we almost believe in fate, thinking about how so many things had to happen to lead her to the point of crafting this song… It’s kind of mind-blowing.
In any case, give it a listen and make sure to watch the video, too. It’s one of the most original videos we’ve seen in years and it’s spell-binding at that.
By Michael Hayball
Suris is led by its two members, Lindsey and Dave Mackie, and they have a great origin story. They met at college, as some couples do, and began recording with only a tiny four track recorder. Their unique sound attracted bigwigs from Ensign Records and Polygram (!), and singer Lindsey even won a talent contest for Sky TV. This is their new single and subsequent video.
The video itself is a beautiful work, reminiscent of the “On” Video by Aphex twin. Set in the Desierto Del Tabernas, Spain, the environment itself conjures up the intimacy evoked by the singer’s warm, inviting voice. The lyrics themselves set the tone for the video. Lindsey sings in complex, intelligent ways about getting over a past lover. She sings, “After such a fire/you’d think there would be ash/Think your wrecking ball/had left me bereft/and yet my mouth is fresh….”Lindsey has an almost supernatural, witchy presence, which works with the frequent Fleetwood Mac comparisons Suris gets. She becomes conjured from the desert, along with faces and fingers made of rock and sand.
Suris is a solid group, and Absolute Zero wouldn’t be out of place on a play list of artists like Fleetwood Mac, Kate Bush, Ani DiFranco, Joni Mitchell or even contemporaries like Lorde. Definitely check them out…