Wilder Music

By Niall Mirza.

Three years after The Losing Score’s debut album, the Space To Grow EP arrives. Clocking in at just thirteen minutes, the much-anticipated project packs a punch at double speed, spitting out a lifetime of lyrics within five compact songs. The EP gleams with lessons learned from their debut, ushering in a brand new live and alive sound for the now-independent band. The freedom that follows independence has led band members Brodie Normandin, Callum McIntyre, and Jack Smith to produce their most interesting and ambitious project yet. Three years is a long wait, but Space To Grow wastes no time, making every second count.

From the first notes of the opening track Come Clean, we find ourselves knee-deep in existential territory. Smith’s shout-along backing vocals exacerbate Normandin’s feelings of alienation from society. The DIY music video melds vintage videogames with live performances, becoming a beacon of nostalgia and community. When the scream-along chorus hits with the lyrics “Feeling normal’s not the same since I grew up and I’ve decided I’m not like this”, the individual experience dissipates into the air as a universal nostalgic angst, and a longing for childhood. Paired with the hardcore edges and the punchy riffs, the opening track finds itself at the forefront of the EP’s continued raw urgency.

And if Come Clean felt urgent, Exhausting is dire. Launching instantly into the first lyric, the frantic delivery of Normandin’s verses chases the fast-paced, hardcore-inspired instrumentation. The entire song, packed into just over two minutes, feels like running on a treadmill at full speed while all the gym bros jeer at you to go faster. The guitars pound relentlessly, the vocals double down, the pace never lets up. The title itself mirrors the structural motif. Halfway through, the song genuinely becomes exhausting to listen to – in the best possible way. There’s a special quality to a song that can place you in the writer’s situation, no matter how undesirable, and this song does that perfectly. However, by the three-peated exclamation of “I say I’m working on myself – it’s so exhausting”, the song feels less like a surrender, and more like an anthem for a generation who have never been taught how to slow down.

The next track, I Don’t Like My Life Much Right Now, brings a new vulnerability to the EP. The instrumentation is powerfully commanded, with McIntyre’s bass and Smith’s drums coming in and dropping out at just the right moments. The fleeting instrumentation and almost a cappella quality of the lyrics “These feelings come just like a cloud / It’s clear as day until it’s overcast and even breathing feels like it’s a chore” emphasise the despair and dread promised by the title. Serving as the EP’s literal centre and emotional core, the track is a reminder that catharsis can be achieved by simply admitting where you’re at, and meeting your audience there. No one wants to hear it, and no one wants to feel it, but The Losing Score are ready to scream it. That’s what makes them so good.

Every good narrative has a turning point. Enter: Time To Change, a song that would make Tzvetan Todorov proud. It’s a recognition of the disruption that’s carried the entire EP, masked with a tongue-in-cheek comparison of Normandin’s flaws to “Scrubs season 9” – a season I’ve never watched, and now probably never will. Hidden in the joke is the true sting. The bridge is a cathartic downpour, a conversation and a ritual. A panic anchored in a realisation that encapsulates the EP’s central message: “There’s no space to grow when you do this on your own”.

The closing track, Please Hold My Hand, navigates a tender yearning. Opening with an intimacy that sets it apart from the rest of the EP stylistically, it carries the narrative to an attempted resolve following the realisation. Where the previous songs shrivelled up in alienation, this track reaches outward. Between verses of doomscrolling and false starts, the chorus reads as both an expression of gratitude and a search for help. Either way, the overall lyrical content emphasises human connection as a lifeline, allowing the narrator to surface and stay grounded. Only twenty seconds in, the song taps back into the punk-rock and power-pop energy that typifies the EP. However, the outlook feels warmer, closing the project on a twinge of hope.

In just over thirteen minutes, Space To Grow manages to capture exhaustion, despair, humour, and hope, coming up for air on the final track. It’s a masterclass in writing a short EP – there’s so much more it could say, yet nothing feels missing. The project doesn’t just confront the difficulty of growing up; it embodies it. Swinging between alienation and connection, burnout and gratitude, existentialism and resolve, this is an EP that invites you to grow up alongside it. The Losing Score makes sense of these contradictions, telling a story that carries far beyond the bite-sized five-track project. Every note, every lyric, and every second counts – cementing Space To Grow as a powerful contribution to the modern emo-punk landscape.