Fir Cone Children vs The Real World

I have started to measure the start of spring proper by the release of a new Fir Cone Children album. That sounds faintly weird until you think about how long Alexander Donat has been working on this project and letting us hear his daughters growing up in real time. I was chatting to Alex the other day about this and I think I first came to this Berlin based rush of dream pop, punk, fuzz and family life through Fog Surrounds Us and first reviewed Waterslide at 7am, then found myself premiering ‘Soaking In’ at a time when Static Sounds Club itself was still finding new ways to connect with artists I loved. Since then, Fir Cone Children has become an annual appointment for me.

Thinking back over the last few albums, The Urge To Overtake Time showed the first deeper shadows of growing up, Jig of Glee threw open the attic office, toy elections, Christmas trees and bedroom rock bands, and last year’s Gearshifting moved the family story into a place where memory, pride and change began to press on every hook. So, when a new Fir Cone Children album arrives, I clear space for it. I listen with a big daft grin and a slightly braced heart. This one needed both.

vs The Real World is the twelfth album from Donat under the Fir Cone Children name and it feels like a record standing at the front door with its shoes on, ready for whatever comes next. The girls are older now. That simple fact changes everything. It creates this new awareness that childhood has a calendar of its own. One daughter is moving into adolescence, school pressure, phone pressure and the sharp edge of wanting space. The other still builds her own systems of play with that fearless spark only children seem to have. Donat has always written with the ears of a father and the heart of a fan. That hasn’t changed. Here’s what he has to say about this new chapter.

Sounds like we’re in for an exciting listen let’s hit play and see what the Donat girls have been up to this year.

‘St. Vincent’ opens the album with one of the most moving turns in the whole Fir Cone Children story. Laila Liisu, who has inspired so many of these songs, steps into the song herself. Her first rock show becomes more than a night out with her dad. It becomes first contact with a bigger self. Musically, it has that Fir Cone Children energy, guitars bright and breathless, drums pushing everything along. However, the sweetness comes from the shared smile inside the song. A father and daughter are looking at the same stage, and for a few minutes the whole room seems to belong to them.

‘Madhu’ brings us back to a weekly ritual for Team Donat. A trip to an Indian restaurant. A Saturday night drive. A Skoda. A receipt. Then the Fir Cone Children spell takes over and suddenly we have salad bowls, party hats, colanders, funnels, rubber snakes and the Indian takeout team in full flight. This is the younger of the two girls turn in the spotlight and the song explains how a private joke can become a family tradition. The pace feels quick on its feet, all grin and elbows, with the rhythm carrying the pair through the shortcut and into the warm exchange at the restaurant counter. “Here’s candy for you and for your sister” is such a tiny detail and such a lovely one. You can feel the kindness in the melody.

‘Enhype!’ is all movement, screen light and self-belief. Laila enters the world of K pop dance and finds confidence through repetition, copying and rehearsing. The song has a sugar rush feel, with phrases snapping into place and the vocal delivery leaning into the joy of performance. Donat has always been good at writing songs about children discovering parts of themselves, and here the discovery feels physical. The punk rock energy is turned up to eleven, as are the bpm. Guitars and bass thrash as the drums race along. Man, just listening to this has me out of breath.

Halloween arrives with ‘Vampire Queen’, and the mood changes in a way that sneaks up on you. Mari has the teeth, the makeup and the courage. She is going out as the vampire queen. Around that fun sits the ache of an older sister starting to step away from the rituals they used to share. Laila visits a friend instead, then returns feeling she probably would have enjoyed going out with her sister, but says nothing. That is the kind of detail that parents notice in silence. The song has a playful bite, chugging along in the opening section before soaring ahead in the chorus section. Honestly that’s a stadium sized singalong waiting to happen.

‘Skurugata’ sits in the track list like a doorway into a different piece of family geography. The title of this short tone poem points towards a Swedish nature reserve but the sounds are grungy and dark.

Then comes ‘Severe Weather Warning’, one of the album’s big emotional pivots. School years are slipping away, storm clouds gather, the sky hangs low, and the gap between the sisters is slowly widening. There is a lovely and painful split inside the song. One daughter senses the adult flame coming closer, while the younger sister can still run around in the rain and simply be soaked, laughing and free. The arrangement feels heavier in spirit, with an almost Japanese sound to the arrangement. Guitars sound like an orchestral string section in places and Donat is at his most reflective lyrically. “Everything is constantly happening at once” really captures that teenage overwhelm.

‘The Mind (Level 12)’ might be one of the clearest pictures of love on the album. The card game itself depends on shared timing, trust and an almost invisible rhythm between players. Donat and Mari reaching the final level becomes a perfect Fir Cone Children subject, because the achievement sits in the connection between father and daughter rather than the score. Again, there’s a equally fun melody driving this one. The repeated line about your mind and my mind has a simplicity that works beautifully. There is no grand statement needed here. You hear a father realising that some bonds speak louder than any words.

‘Cobra Scam’ is classic Fir Cone Children comedy with a little life lesson folded inside the packet. Every parent knows this moment. The toy, the advert, the shiny picture, the hope then the crushing reality.  Mari is excited at the prospect of a deadly Indian cobra toy glued to a magazine. The advertising does its work. Her imagination supplies the rest. When the bag opens and the cobra it’s an absolute dud. I laughed out loud at “It looks like poo”, partly because it is very funny and partly because I know exactly what it’s like. The pulsing bass on this one has post punk energy and is the guiding star for the track.

‘Hang In There (My Moon)’ is the one that really got me. Laila is changing, pulling away, feeling the heat of peer judgement, finding ordinary family presence suddenly embarrassing. Donat writes from the parent’s side of that moment and keeps the feeling tender, even when it hurts. “If I’m okay with this behaviour, why does it hurt?” is such an honest line, and any parent who has watched a child need distance will empathise. The music is so intricate and that chorus, is exquisite. It has a melody Beck would kill for. Lyrically the choice of the phrase “My moon” is perfect. A moon moves through phases. A moon disappears and returns. A moon belongs to the sky and still changes the tide at home. This song knows that loving a teenager means standing close enough to be found and far enough to let them fly free.

Next up, Laila wants WhatsApp and Snapchat because new school, new mates and new self all come with new rules. ‘Time To Ask’ brings the negotiation years to the album. The music has the quick breath of someone presenting a case they have rehearsed in their head. “What can I do to be part of this century?” becomes the teenage treaty proposal. For Laila, connection now lives partly inside apps, group chats and phone permissions. This is a really dynamic track with the external dialogue fast and frantic and the internal monologue slow and thoughtful. I’ve been challenged to guess the song she had to learn on her ukulele. This one had me stumped but I think I made out Für Elise. Hope I’m right.

‘Beating The Real World’ gives the album its title and lets it’s Mari in the spotlight as she creates a whole new operation. A cardboard ATM sits in the living room with real money. There’s a mail order business in the bedroom making wondrous things. Golden forks, rugs, books, vinyl records and same day delivery. The joy here comes from how complete her invented system feels. Children do this better than anyone. They look at adult life, copy the parts they like, improve the parts they find boring, then add their own spin for good measure. The song has that giddy Fir Cone Children abandon, the kind that makes life feel larger than it is. You can hear Donat’s relief that this kind of play still exists in the house. Against all the pressure of growing up, Mari builds a better economy out of cardboard, objects and belief. Wonderous things indeed.

‘Forever’ closes the album with grief spoken plainly to a mostly acoustic backing. Mari writes a letter to her late Uncle, and Donat directly translates it without dressing it up. That lone choice gives this song such power. “I know you’ll never read this, but still, I want to write this letter” is devastating because children just speak what their hearts feel. I wasn’t emotionally ready for this song first time around and it had me in bits. After an album full of costumes, dances, games, phones and cardboard cash machines, ending here feels like another milestone, a hard one. The real world enters the room in its hardest form, and a child answers with a beautifully written, heartfelt letter. I had to sit with that for a minute.

By the time vs The Real World ends, you feel the full weight of what Donat has been building across all these Fir Cone Children records. This project began as a way to honour the bright rush of childhood, and it has grown into a family archive with amps, fuzz pedals, jokes, pets, holidays, school gates, tears and pride pressed into every corner. This new album has plenty of speed and sparkle, with punk edges cutting through the shoegaze haze and indie pop warmth keeping the melodies bouncing along. The deeper feeling comes from the knowledge that time is moving through the house. Laila is stepping towards a wider life. Mari still builds whole systems from cardboard and nerve. Donat stands in the middle, listening, loving, learning, and turning the whole thing into songs that make you want to phone your kids, hug your parents, or sit quietly with a memory you had packed away. The real world wins plenty of battles, but Fir Cone Children have made an album that kicks its ass.

vs The Real World is out now via Blackjack Illuminist Records. You can check it out over on the Blackjack Illuminist Bandcamp page.

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