Formal Sppeedwear – Hit ‘n’ Run

Formal Sppeedwear slam the pedal with new single ‘Hit ’n’ Run

After spinning heads and forcing fans to their feet with their new-wave banger ‘Wait (Hatchet Gets a New Hide)’, Formal Sppeedwear aren’t easing off the gas. Their latest single ‘Hit ’n’ Run’ hits with the subtlety of a speeding SUV — and good luck getting their insurance details.

The Stoke-on-Trent trio return in peak form: delightfully unhinged, rhythmically restless, and brimming with that off-kilter charm that’s made their sold-out debut EP and festival appearances at The Great Escape and Manchester Psych Fest the talk of BBC 6 Music’s indie lanes.

‘Hit ’n’ Run’ is a controlled collision between looping minimalism à la Steve Reich and Terry Riley, and the rubber-burning hooks of Yellow Magic Orchestra and DEVO. Recorded and engineered by the band themselves in their DIY bunker, it’s three minutes of pure motorik mischief — a groove-driven joyride that’s equal parts brain and brawn.

Frontman and bassist Beck Clewlow sums it up best:

“We’ve written something we wouldn’t usually write… and I like it. I started with just bass and a drum machine — rhythm always dictates where the vocals go. Hit ’n’ Run became this indulgent mess of shifting time signatures and backbeats we couldn’t resist.”

Lyrically, the track pulls inspiration from ’70s New Hollywood suburbia, recasting its cinematic grit against the quieter corners of modern Stoke-on-Trent.

“There’s something about those dusty American small towns that feels weirdly close to home,” Beck adds. “Except for, you know, the serial murders.”

With a debut album revving just around the bend and two headline shows lined up in London and Manchester, Formal Sppeedwear look set to shift gears — and probably melt a few speakers while they’re at it.

UK Tour Dates_

Buy tickets here

“Hit ‘n’ Run,” out now on Melodic Records.

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Lyrics_ Hit ‘n’ Run

Oh there ochre mineshaft
The best winnings since odds began, odds began
What guides that boolean? 
Two hammers sound and the gust be gone, gust be gone

Ooh what an angle! 
Bound along the rails this time. 
This time! 

Oh it’s a tight one, it’s put upside it’s no station.
No station. 
The smell of pigment it burns so slow and alone.
Oh it’s a set up it’s a banal investigation. 

Oh so maddening.
Towns wading over denizen benign, denizen benign.
It takes time in the right occupation. 
At the get-up over lust-be-long, lust-be-long.

… 

Through the turn off, right in my vision that night. 
That night. 
Ooh so built for sinking… lizard looks around - he’s stuck to the walls, he’s thinking.
Look at this man, look at this man. 
He seems so invested in here. 

Jet stream, have you heard about the big blast just a street away? 
Unlike no case - ridges in the woodland designed to wrap around, wrap around, wrap around.

Passport_

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