My relationship with Catfish and the Bottlemen is complicated. Their debut, 'The Balcony', remains one of my favourite records of the 2010s, and having seen them live three times, I’ve witnessed their undeniable energy firsthand. Yet, I often find myself being their harshest critic.
Emerging in the wake of Arctic Monkeys’ AM, Catfish arrived just as guitar music recaptured the public consciousness. They offered a gritty, high-octane alternative to the EDM and pop-dominated charts of the era, and for a moment, it felt like they could be the biggest band in the world.
But despite headlining festivals like Reading & Leeds and selling out arenas, there is a sense of unfulfilled potential in their trajectory; for many, their subsequent output never quite recaptured the lightning in a bottle of their debut, despite trying twice.
However, critique aside, their discography is home to some genuine anthems. These are my ten favourites.
I think the band's catalogue got worse with each release; however, 'Conversation' is a standout track from the band's third album, 'The Balance'. It feels more grounded and paranoid than the rest of the record, capturing that specific Van McCann lyrical trope: the frantic, late-night phone call or the misunderstood social interaction.
The interlocking guitar work here is tighter than on their earlier records, providing a driving, nervous energy that keeps the listener hooked until the very last second. It serves as a reminder that even when their formula started to feel familiar, they could still turn out high-quality indie-rock. It stands as a rare moment of focus on an album that otherwise felt like the band were re-visiting old ground.
As the closer for 'The Ride', 'Outside' is one of the band’s most atmospheric and anthemic tracks. It is a real widescreen moment, representing a detour into a larger, more expansive sound that the band rarely revisited.
In the context of the album, this track offered something genuinely different from the high-velocity singles. There is a cinematic quality to the reverb-drenched guitars that feels like a nod to the big-sky rock of the 90s, proving they could handle a slower burn without losing their edge.
It was also a real, live highlight; seeing it performed, you realise how much it fills the space of a venue. For a band often criticised for sticking to one gear, 'Outside' shows a maturity and a willingness to let a song breathe, offering a melancholic, epic ending that makes you wish they had explored this sonic palette more often.
This was the statement single that bridged the gap between their scrappy indie upstart beginnings and their arena-filling future. When 'The Ride' was announced, 'Soundcheck' had the impossible task of following up the lightning-in-a-bottle success of their debut, and it succeeded by doubling down on massive, calculated dynamics.
It’s built around a fantastic, stuttering rhythmic hook that explodes into a chorus specifically designed to be shouted back by twenty thousand people. The track also features one of their most effective guitar solos, which cuts through the wall of sound with the kind of swagger that defines their middle era.
Having seen them live three times, you know this is the moment in the set where the energy shifts from indie club to world-class headliner. It is a masterclass in tension and release, though it also signalled the start of the band leaning more into a polished, radio-friendly formula. It's also one of the best examples of Catfish, showing that they were ready for these big venues, which is what makes some of what followed it so disappointing.
'Rango' is a relic of the early Bottlemen era. Released as the band's second single, it remains the heart and soul of their indie-rock credentials. It’s a song that feels like it was written in the back of a van between pub gigs, dripping with a youthful, desperate energy that feels genuinely lived-in. Lyrically, it is one of Van’s most narrative-driven pieces, detailing a small-town romance with a level of grit and specific detail that often felt missing from the band's later, more polished work.
Van wrote it when he was just 16, about a relationship with a girl named Abby that didn't quite work out. He famously admitted in an interview that he originally wrote the song to win her back, but at the time, she wasn't impressed. The tables turned once the song hit the radio; suddenly flattered by the attention, she wanted to reconcile, but by then, Van refused.
That sense of bittersweet vindication fuels the track’s frantic guitar work and rougher vocal delivery. It serves as a potent reminder of why they were once hailed as the true successors to the Arctic Monkeys. It’s unpretentious, incredibly catchy, and carries an emotional weight that their later stadium-fillers often lacked. Even the title, a nod to the animated film character, adds to that sense of early-career charm, where the songs felt like personal snapshots rather than calculated hits.
If you want to explain the band's raw appeal to a sceptic, you play them 'Oxygen'. It’s a shot of pure adrenaline, one of their shortest, sharpest tracks that clocks in at an urgent pace that never lets up.
'Oxygen' retains that four guys in a room friction. It also happens to feature one of the band's biggest and most catchy choruses, anchored by the iconic lines: "She says Oxygen's overrated, I don't even need to breathe / She's got a tank full of highs, and a mind that never sleeps."
The pacing is relentless; it’s a track that demands a high-energy live environment where the sweat is dripping off the walls. It highlights the band’s ability to write a punchy, effective rock song without any unnecessary filler, perfectly capturing the frantic spirit of their early rise to fame, and their ability to craft arena and festival-ready anthems.
'Fallout' is arguably the most complete song on 'The Balcony' and a peak example of their quiet-loud dynamic. It carries a gritty backstory, famously inspired by an old manager leaving Van stranded in Leeds, which adds a layer of genuine frustration to the track's urgency.
You can feel that abandonment in the tension of the verses before it boils over. It also features one of Van's most famous autobiographical lyrics: "You see I, I was a test-tube baby / That's why nobody gets me," a line that became a point of fascination for fans early on.
The opening bassline sets a moody, propulsive tone that builds a sense of momentum akin to a car chase. What truly sets 'Fallout' apart is the bridge, a soaring, melodic breakdown that showcases Van’s vocal range before crashing back into the main riff with total conviction.
As a three-time attendee of their live shows, you know there is no other way to end a set. 'Tyrants' is the most ambitious song on their debut album; it's a sprawling, multi-part masterpiece that transcends their usual three-minute pop-rock structures. Remarkably, it was written by Van when he was just 14 years old, which makes its structural complexity and maturity even more impressive; it’s a song that he has essentially grown up with on stage.
It begins as a moody indie track but slowly mutates into a chaotic, feedback-heavy jam that allows the band to actually play. In a live setting, the extended outro is a religious experience for fans, acting as a reminder of the raw musicality they possess when they step outside their comfort zone. The seven-minute live version is where the band truly becomes a unit. It’s the one moment where the 'unfulfilled potential' feels completely fulfilled, as they abandon the radio-edit constraints for pure, unadulterated noise.
It is the definitive Catfish closer and perhaps the greatest example of that unfulfilled potential.
'Cocoon' is the ultimate us-against-the-world anthem and the moment the band truly found their voice. It’s the peak of Van McCann’s early songwriting—hooky and defiant. Interestingly, Van even admitted to Steve Lamacq that the song shares the same high-octane start as 'The Bartender and the Thief' by Stereophonics, a nod to the classic UK rock lineage they were joining.
Over time, 'Cocoon' has grown into something much bigger than just a good Catfish tune; it has become a genuine indie anthem of the 2010s. The song turned them from a buzz band into a cultural movement, with the iconic chorus becoming a rallying cry at every festival they touched.
It’s bold, arrogant, and brilliant, capturing the exact moment when the band had the world at their feet. The way the track builds into that final explosive chorus is a masterclass in arena-rock songwriting.
Despite the critique that their music became more formulaic over time, '7' is an undeniable triumph of modern rock songwriting. On a personal level, I have a deep connection with this track; it’s a song that has been there for me through a lot of bad times, providing a sense of comfort and a place to put my head when things felt heavy.
Musically, it is a perfect radio song that managed to capture a more mature, slightly yearning tone while still delivering a chorus so big it feels like it makes you think that you can take on the world.
It captures a specific sense of long-distance longing and frustration that resonates with anyone who has ever been stuck in a complicated situation. It’s the standout moment of their post-debut era, proving that they still had the 'AM'-style swagger. Whether it’s the full-throttle album version or the stripped-back acoustic performances, the song carries an honesty that bridges the gap between the band and the listener. It’s the 'lightning in a bottle' moment of their second album.
This is the gold standard of modern British indie. 'Pacifier' represents everything Catfish & the Bottlemen were meant to be: high-octane, melodic, and brimming with personality.
The music video is a classic of its era, even featuring a cameo from Steve Lamacq, further cementing their status as the darlings of the indie scene and bridging the gap between the band and the tastemakers who championed them.
From the iconic, jagged opening riff to the frantic drum fills, it is a masterclass in indie-pop dynamics. While other songs on this list might be more epic or polished, 'Pacifier' has a raw magic that can’t be manufactured in a studio. It’s the song that best justifies the immense hype they arrived with, a flawless piece of guitar music that still sounds as fresh and vital today as it did on the first listen.
In the end, maybe that’s the true legacy of Catfish & the Bottlemen. Despite the critical debates and the feeling that they could have evolved further, they provided a soundtrack for the 'bad times' and the 'arena nights' alike. For me, these ten songs aren't just tracks on a playlist; they’re memories of where I was when I first heard them, and why I keep coming back, even if sometimes I am their harshest critic.
Thank you for reading
Jack