For a few years in the early 2010s, the centre of the musical universe wasn’t London or Manchester, it was Birmingham. For those of us growing up in the small towns just outside the city, the "B-Town" scene was our revolution. We didn’t just listen to the music; we lived it.
Peace were the undisputed kings of that era, but they were part of a wider scene. Our iPods were a rotating mix of the hazy, dream-pop of Swim Deep, the grunge-fueled energy of JAWS, and the infectious hooks of Superfood. It felt like every week, a new anthem was being born just down the road from us.
When Peace released their debut record, 'In Love', we were only thirteen. It was the perfect age to be swept up in it all. While the other bands provided the scenery, Peace provided the heart. Their albums have stayed with us, soundtracking the shift from our teenage years into our twenties. They were the local heroes who made it big without ever losing that Midlands soul.
Here's my ten faves.
It took a couple of years of anticipation, but when Peace finally brought 'Utopia', the band’s fourth studio album, to streaming services in late 2025, 'Good Jeans' arrived as the final single. It’s a synth-led, indie-pop banger that feels both fresh and nostalgic, complete with three glockenspiel solos and one of the most infectious choruses of their career.
Opening the record, 'Good Jeans' introduces us to a more mature version of Peace, yet it’s still soaked in that signature youthful excess and optimism. When Harry Koisser sings, "By the grace of God, I’m going out again," you can’t help but believe him. We buy into the thrill because the music backs it up; the jangling chords, "chug-a-chug" riffs, and twinkling guitar layers evoke that classic 'In Love' magic.
What’s most impressive is that on 'Good Jeans', despite the band now operating as a duo, Peace sound as vital as ever. If this track had dropped during the height of the B-Town boom in 2015 rather than 2025, it undoubtedly would have been a hit. It is, quite simply, a very, very good indie song.
By moving to their own subscription service and releasing music on their own terms over the last few years, Peace have reclaimed their narrative. 'Utopia' is proof that their creative well is far from dry. Fingers crossed they carry this momentum into even more new material, but for now, this record has given us a modern classic to keep on repeat.
While many indie tracks focus on bravado, 'Magnificent' is a vulnerable, deeply honest internal monologue. It is a track that showcases Harry Koisser’s duality perfectly: in one moment, he’s primed to take on the world; in the next, he’s doubting his every step.
This song is the perfect evidence that Peace are far more than a generic indie band. They are exceptional musicians, fronted by an unbelievably gifted, self-conscious, and self-aware songwriter. On 'Magnificent', that self-awareness is on full display as Harry admits, "I lie to you to hide the truth / It’s only gonna get ya hurt." It captures that mid-twenties feeling of "faking it" while waiting for your spark to come back, the "basement hanging around" moments of life.
When Harry describes himself as a "sad sound" and asks to "turn the bass down," you can feel the sensory overload and the weight of expectation. He isn't just playing a part; he’s dissecting his own role as an artist, calling himself a "servant to your ear." The chorus, however, remains one of their most powerful moments. It’s a plea for patience: "Don't give up on me just yet / Someday I will be magnificent." It’s a line that resonated deeply with those of us who grew up with the band. As we hit our twenties and faced our own "sad sounds," that hope for future greatness felt like a shared promise. It proves that even in the quietest, most doubtful hours, Peace can craft something special.
If 'In Love' was the sound of a summer that never ended, their sophomore follow-up, 'Happy People', was the sound of the band stepping into the strobe lights. 'Gen Strange' is the definitive anthem of that era, a track that perfectly encapsulates the strange mix of optimism, disaffection, euphoria, and self-loathing that makes the album what it is.
Musically, the song is a brilliant collage of unnerving guitar riffs and jagged energy. Yet, underneath that tension lies the nostalgic, euphoric soul of a classic Brit-Pop anthem. It’s this contrast that makes it so compelling; it feels like a celebration and a breakdown happening at the exact same time.
The lyrics dive deep into the uncomfortable paranoia of the digital age. Harry’s lines about the "pressure from the weight of all the satellites in space" and the news cycle of "Blood, Love and Terror" reflect a world that feels increasingly surreal and overwhelming. Between the "Sega game" imagery and the man on the moon looking down at a "square" Earth, the song paints a picture of a generation trying to find its footing in a glitchy reality. 'Gen Strange' felt like a major evolution. It was the moment Peace proved they could tackle the "general ache and pain" of modern life while still delivering a massive, singalong chorus. It remains a rallying cry for anyone who has ever felt a little "strange" while trying to move through the world with "charm and gab."
This is the first, but certainly not the last, track from 'In Love' to make this list. When we talk about this record, we aren't just talking about a collection of songs; we’re talking about a cultural shift. As DIY Magazine perfectly put it:
"Every generation has its share of Very Important Albums... there’s a record in each person’s collection that soundtracked that vital moment when music changed from something they occasionally enjoyed to a matter of life and death. With their debut full-length, Peace made a Very Important Album."
'In Love' is a kaleidoscopic debut that dips into a variety of styles, making effortless nods to 90s shoegaze, Britpop, grunge, and the baggy grooves of Madchester. Yet, 'Float Forever', the album's fourth track, is difficult to pigeonhole into any one specific era. It simply sounds like Peace. With this song, they crafted an arena-ready anthem. While they may not have eventually filled stadiums, they proved incredibly early on that they had the songwriting chops to occupy those massive spaces.
It captures a hazy, sun-drenched escapism that made the B-Town scene feel like a sanctuary. At a time when the world felt heavy, Peace arrived with a sound that NME described as being as "rejuvenating as a wash of zesty orange juice over a crushing hangover." They argued that even if the band were "pirates" of classic sounds rather than pioneers, it didn't matter: "As Britain suffers from youth unemployment and economic crisis, our greatest currency is the chime of a golden tune."
'Float Forever' is the goldiest of those tunes. It encourages you to "swim down through the fathoms of your soul" and "sit atop the Eiffel in your mind." It’s psychedelic, melodic, and deeply comforting. The refrain "You know we'll float forever in the tide" remains a definitive moment in their discography, a promise of weightlessness that has stayed with fans throughout the years.
While Peace are often celebrated for their hazy optimism, 'Perfect Skin', a standout single from their second album 'Happy People', dives into the much darker, more frantic side of the human psyche. The song's theme creates a brilliant, biting juxtaposition with the album’s title; it is the sound of a "happy person" cracking at the seams.
The track is built on a massive, undeniably catchy chorus that feels tailor-made for summer festivals. However, this infectious energy is cleverly juxtaposed against the verses, which are filled with a visceral sense of self-loathing. It is a song about the archetypal "loser": a guy disenchanted with his own existence, feeling fundamentally deficient and looking toward someone else to fix him.
Harry Koisser’s lyrics explore deep-seated insecurities and body consciousness with a bluntness that is rare in indie-rock. He isn't just singing about a crush; he’s singing about a desperate desire to swap identities, pleading to be "as gorgeous, as stylish, as rich" as the object of his desire. The lines "I'm so junk" and "I'm so grim" highlight a sense of worthlessness that makes the upbeat nature of the music feel almost ironic.
By the time the bridge hits, "Your superiority overtly makes me worry I'm not worthy", the song reaches a fever pitch of anxiety. 'Perfect Skin' is a vital part of the Peace discography because it refuses to be pretty. It asks the heavy question at the heart of our modern obsession with aesthetics: "And if I had perfect skin / Would I feel pure within?" It’s a song that proves Peace have always been willing to look in the mirror, even when they don’t like what’s looking back.
Quite simply, 'Lovesick' is one of the very best indie love songs ever written. It is the moment on 'In Love' where juvenile innocence gives way to a frantic rush of hormones. From that iconic opening line, "I don’t wanna go to school", the track is packed with the kind of energy that opens eyes and warps young minds.
While Peace aren't necessarily trying to be cerebral here, they possess a creative sparkle that had been missing from British guitar music for years. 'Lovesick' carries beautiful echoes of the past, notably with a refrain that mirrors the DNA of The Cure’s 'Friday I’m In Love'. However, where Smith looked at the days of the week, Peace looks at love in the digital age. It balances the timelessness of a romantic gesture with the hyper-connected, social-media-driven adoration of the 21st century.
Lyrically, the song doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel, and it’s all the more poignant for it. It perfectly encapsulates that singular, obsessive focus of being young and infatuated, where the person you’re with becomes the sole reason for everything you do. It’s beautifully simple: a rejection of school, rent, and "making sense" in favour of just existing in someone else's orbit.
Despite its straightforward nature, I challenge anyone not to sing along to that infectious chorus. It is a song designed for communal, shared moments. Whether you’re in a sweaty indie nightclub in Birmingham, lost in a festival crowd in a Leeds field, or sharing a quiet moment with a partner, the song’s energy creates an instant connection. It transforms any setting into a celebration of carefree joy, reminding us all of the universal, messy appeal of falling head-over-heels.
With a bassline that wouldn’t be out of place in an '80s disco track and backing vocals that the Bee Gees would be proud of, 'Lost On Me' has all the credentials of a classic summer anthem. It’s the standout moment from 'Happy People' where the band leans entirely into their infectious, rhythmic side, proving they can command a dancefloor just as easily as a mosh pit.
Vocalist Harry Koisser uses his signature charm to lead the charge. He refers to his girl as “baby” before shifting into a seductive, dreamy delivery, calling her "chemically so heavenly", a line that perfectly captures the hazy, slightly psychedelic romance Peace is known for. The song then bursts into a high-energy chorus where Harry begs the object of his affection to "get lost on me," while Dom and Sam provide the shimmering vocal echoes that give the track its disco-tinged polish.
Lyrically, the song celebrates a "royal love for common blood," suggesting a deep, soulful connection that transcends the superficial. When Harry sings, "Sometimes the simplest thing / An elegant sting / Resounds the most," he highlights the band's ability to find beauty in the uncomplicated. It’s a track about the "lightning" of a kiss and the effortless pull of attraction.
'Lost On Me' represents a peak in their mid-career confidence. It’s sleek, stylish, and incredibly fun, showcasing a band that isn't afraid to let their hair down and write a pure, unadulterated pop song.
Released in late 2017, 'From Under Liquid Glass' marked a seismic shift for Peace. It wasn't just a new single; it was a public unravelling and a vital act of survival. To understand the weight of this song, you have to understand the band that made it. Peace emerged as the spearhead of the "B-Town" scene, alongside Swim Deep, Supefood and JAWS, acting as the poster boys for a relentless "eruption of positivity." But as the band grew, the gap between the "happy" public persona and Harry’s private reality began to widen dangerously.
The track was born during a period of profound personal crisis for Harry Koisser. While recording the band’s third album, 'Kindness Is The New Rock And Roll', the group decamped to a National Trust farmhouse in rural Herefordshire. While the rest of the band came and went, Harry stayed for six months, living with a single bed in the middle of a massive, empty room. That isolation became the crucible for this song. The title itself serves as a metaphor for the claustrophobia of anxiety, the feeling of being submerged and unable to breathe while the world watches you through the glass.
'From Under Liquid Glass' is an unfiltered exploration of depression, tapping into something raw and human. Harry realised that he could no longer rely on "trendy metaphors" to dress up his songwriting; his mental state required the blunt truth. He decided to be brutally literal: "I'm scared to face the music alone / In my big fuckin' mental head."
One of the most powerful moments in the song addresses the exhausting internal battle between logic and emotion:
"In my bones I know there’s something real / But I can’t control the way I feel."
By releasing this track in support of the mental health charity MQ, Koisser took a stand against the pressure young men feel to stay "strong." He proved that you could be one of the "happy people" and still take a pasting from your demons. It transformed Peace from a "Very Important Band" for our record collections into a life-saving band for our mental health.
'Follow Baby' is where the "pirate" spirit of the band truly shines, looting the very best parts of rock history to create a track that feels both classic and dangerously fresh. It is the sonic embodiment of that NME sentiment:
"Music can reflect the past and still be valid... So what if they’re a bunch of pirates and not pioneers? Peace have delivered"
By taking the elements of the music they loved, the wall-of-sound grit of My Bloody Valentine, the swagger of Oasis, and the melodic spirals of The Stone Roses, they created something unique and brilliant. The sonic architecture of the track is built on "buzz saw" guitars that squall with feedback, creating a heavy, shoegaze-inspired texture that was a staple of the early B-Town "grunge-pop" sound. For that lightning-bolt moment in 2013, they didn't just look like another indie group; they looked set to be Britain's next great band.
The track is a masterclass in that "wide-eyed marvellous wonder" that defined their debut. As the NME review accurately noted:
"So long as teenagers exist, there’ll be eternal value in rock’n’roll this spectacular. It has no sell-by date... Peace are intoxicated by their own youth."
There is a fascinating lyrical mysticism at play here. While the chorus is a massive Britpop shout-along with Gallagher-esque defiance ("We gon’ live for-evaaah"), the verses are surprisingly dark and surreal. Lines like "Her hair it bleeds and bleeds for you" suggest a darker, psychedelic fairy tale beneath the anthemic surface. This contrast fueled the song's live legacy, turning every early show into a communal "call to arms" as crowds followed the band "deep, deep, deep" into the music. Even the hi-hats feel epic here. It remains a staggering reminder of why 'In Love' was such a vital record; it wasn't trying to be deep or intellectual; it was too busy being a soundtracking a new generation.
If there is one song that defines the sheer scale of the band's ambition, it is 'World Pleasure'. Serving as the closing track to 'Happy People', it is arguably the most experimental moment in their discography, a sprawling, six-minute epic that attempts to pull in every genre imaginable. From a boisterous, funky bassline to Gallagher-style tambourine shakes and laid-back rapping, it’s a track that oozes class, and it's expertly crafted.
Peace really went for it with this song; they threw everything into it and crafted something very special.
Lyrically, the song balances a sense of social consciousness with an infectious confidence, "Please don't send me off to war / That's not what my body's for" "Maybe I was not born brave / Maybe I was born good looking"
The true magic, however, lies in the instrumentation. It’s a brilliant nod to the "wig outs" of their live shows, recalling Primal Scream, and the druggy, rhythmic euphoria of the Madchester scene. It’s a two-minute section designed to squeeze out every drop of inner funk you didn't know you possessed. By the time the ocean of sound washes over you in the final chorus, you realise you're listening to a band that completely refused to let expectations stop them from doing exactly what they wanted.
'World Pleasure' isn't just a song; it's a statement of intent. It proves that Peace were never just a generic indie group, but a band capable of world-class, psychedelic brilliance. By taking the sun-drenched sound of their early days and transforming them into something more muscular and complex, this track serves as the ultimate evolution of the Birmingham sound.
It acts as a necessary rebuttal to those who dismissed the band as just another indie outfit of the era. Ultimately, this six-minute epic provided the sonic blueprint that allowed the band to break cover and experiment even further, capturing the sound of a group outgrowing their own scene and stepping into the pantheon of Great British guitar music.
Looking back, Peace didn't just provide a soundtrack for a generation; they grew up alongside us. They transformed from the pirate pioneers of the B-town scene into a band capable of world-class, psychedelic brilliance. While they stayed true to that unmistakable Midlands soul, they also became a vital anchor for our own transitions into adulthood, turning the general ache and pain of life into something communal and magnificent. Ultimately, they outgrew the boundaries of a local scene to claim their place in the pantheon of Great British guitar music, proving that as long as there is a "chime of a golden tune," that B-Town spirit never truly fades.
Thank you for reading
Jack