Do you remember the story John Lennon used to tell about meeting Yoko Ono for the first time, where he continued viewing the whole of her 1966 art show because his first encounter was the word ‘yes’ through a magnifying glass, hooking him simply because it said something positive? Well, I kind of felt the same encouragement with the title of this Eggs On Mars record, before even hearing a note of music. After all, the messaging firing out of the US on a daily basis is hardly the most cheering right now so maybe I found it a refreshing reminder that there is plenty of warmth, emotion, and humanity alive in the rolling immensity of the interior West. This collective from Kansas City, Missouri are working in a gently off‑kilter lane of soft psychedelics and vintage flavoured garage pop, theirs is a fragile yet solid grain of Midwestern guitar music that wears its affection for sixties pop classicism and the nineties indie guitar scene proudly out front whilst resisting the pull of pastiche in favour of music that is expressively their own. The band put it very concisely themselves actually, that is Brad Smith on guitar and vocals, Doug Bybee on bass and vocals, Mason Potter on drums and Joel Stratton on guitar and keys; they say that “through our Midwestern lens we try to summon the sound of The Monkees if they were chosen over the Velvet Underground to be Warhol’s Factory band.” Which, as fanciful as that may sound, does kind of nail what is going on here.

Eggs On Mars do have a pop aesthetic, albeit it one that any actual pop pickers of the 2026 hit parades would no doubt describe as retro, alongside a healthy appreciation of audio fineries like lush chord changes and irresistible melodic pathways; they also carve out plenty of breathing room on their sonic palate. Their music feels the vibrations of the living, it responds to the natural contortions of the elements and is sensitive to the rise and fall of the sun, it is almost like they can feel the planet rotating beneath their feet. And having thrown all these ingredients into a kaleidoscopic melting pot, they stir up curdling waves of music that can hum with that very same mesmeric, hazy buzz that the Velvets would loop and evolve to beat their downtown, avant-garde Warhol audience into submission. Ultimately though, the Eggs On Mars fuse all these influences and references into music that, at its core, pays considered respect to the craft of songwriting and when you get stuck in to ‘Good Morning (I Love You),’ it instantly becomes evident that there are some seriously potent songs on this record.

Album opener ‘Inconsistent Cowpoke’ sets the stall out, establishing a high bar from the outset. The verses are melancholy, sung in a weary voice that sounds as beaten down and trod upon as the lyrics suggest, but the chorus offers a glimmer of light and by the songs close, a cloudburst coda brings the welcome taste of relief flying in on a bullet of sharp electric guitar flight, the music holding our hands as it lifts us out of the doldrums. The title track has a springtime promise in its narrators loving relationship contentment, but we are not entering quite the syrupy territory the title suggests, for the song reveals frustration at the humdrum of everyday commitments perpetually bursting the blissful bubble. The guitar solo that plays out the tune is both richly phrased and a little forlorn, whilst found sound in the shape of heavily populated crowd chatter hints at the inspiration behind this number. ‘Be For You’ has a tender piano break which pre-faces a soaring guitar solo taking it to the end; I am summoning up all the music writer energy I can muster not to make a George Harrison comparison here but I have to admit defeat, there is a Beatle-esque splendour to the way an equally rousing song is concluded. The snowdrop piano trills that introduce ‘Couldn’t Write’ do not prepare you for the majesty of major / minor changes that underpin the loved-up joy felt in the lyric. Four songs in and it is becoming clear that Eggs On Mars may not actually peak here, every song pushes the gains of the previous offerings and advances them. And there are a few characteristics emerging, as the ringing jangle of electric guitars chime ‘Couldn’t Write’ to its end, their love of an energised finale is beyond doubt.

‘Shooting Stars’ enters with the most up front rhythmic momentum we have heard thus far and once again, a wonderfully rendered tune is positively launched into space with its incredible chorus line elevation. The spaceman float of the unbound, tuneful guitar lick that closes this song, conjuring visions of its title, clears room for the cavernous echo in the guitar sound that ushers in ‘That’s Alright.’ This is a song that highlights one of the understated strengths within the Eggs On Mars armoury. Each sung chorus begins with a combined vocal of “oooh” and, as restrained and occasionally diffident as they may appear, the singing in this band adds another subtle layer of nuance to these deceptively fragile songs. ‘Takes Time’ enters with their clearest sixties pop guitar riffing yet; still, the necessary vigour found here is more than matched by the bands ability to execute with conviction. ‘And I Know’ perfects the Byrds-y chime to maximum satisfaction (plus un-self-conscious spoken interlude) and ‘Frame To Frame’ sticks to a charming, delicate pace. Finally, ‘I Came Home 2 Find Nothing Had Changed Except Me’ pins a resigned reflection on to a warm guitar line. So, is there anything to dislike here? Not for me. The whole ten-song suite is over and done in 27 minutes and personally, I could happily have stayed for the same distance again. But when you get the job done to perfection as Eggs On Mars have done here, why elaborate for the sake of it? Here’s hoping more ears find their way to this record, and that it soon sheds its under‑the‑radar status to claim the gleaming little treasure spot its quality has already earned.

Danny Neill

Get yourself a copy of the latest Eggs On Mars album via this link: https://eggsonmars.bandcamp.com/album/good-morning-i-love-you