Emerging from the vibrant local music scene of Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, Annual Killers is a versatile band forged by the dynamic collaboration of Cohan Maybank, Morgan Price, and Jack Lewis. Their journey began with a shared passion for original ideas and an ambition to blend diverse musical genres into a fresh, compelling sound that resonates with a broad and varied audience. Initially, the band was shaped by the musical camaraderie between Cohan and Morgan, but it was Jack’s addition following the departure of their former guitarist that became a turning point in their evolution. Jack’s arrival brought a new creative energy that steered the band towards a unique sonic path, culminating in a sound deeply influenced by the emotive and melodic stylings of Midwest Emo pioneers like Mom Jeans and Title Fight.
This influence is evident in their focus on pretty, intricate chords paired with deeply personal and honest lyrics, allowing Annual Killers to tap into a raw vulnerability that speaks directly to listeners’ hearts. The band’s recording process is as intentional as their songwriting. At South Wales’ Northhouse Studio, they meticulously sculpted their tones using advanced equipment such as the Quad Cortex on bass and guitar, striving to capture the perfect emotional resonance for their music. Despite recent challenges, including a hiatus from live performances following their former guitarist’s exit, Annual Killers are eager to reconnect with fans through upcoming gigs in Aberdare and Trefforest. Annual Killers are not merely musicians; they are storytellers whose work captures the complexities of longing, emotional honesty, and human vulnerability, inviting listeners into an intimate, shared experience.
On May 21st, 2025, Annual Killers unveiled their latest single, IS 12:00 THE NEW 420?, a track that perfectly encapsulates the band’s evolution and distinctive sound. This song is a captivating blend of energetic summer vibes intertwined with the poignant melancholy of sad boy hours, making it a versatile anthem that can accompany any emotional state or moment in time. Rooted in the rich textures of Midwest Emo, the single opens a window into the protagonist’s heart, a story of longing for a love he believes he will never attain. Through shimmering guitar riffs, carefully crafted tones, and emotionally restrained yet powerful vocals by Cohan Maybank, the song navigates the fragile terrain of vulnerability and desperate yearning. The band’s meticulous production choices at Northhouse Studio have birthed a track that balances raw emotional authenticity with polished, resonant soundscapes. IS 12:00 THE NEW 420? is more than just a song; it’s an emotional journey, a sonic reflection on desire, loss, and the complex rituals of the heart. Annual Killers invite listeners to lose themselves in this stirring new chapter of their sound and story.
From the very first moment IS 12:00 THE NEW 420? arrives, like a sudden wave of emotion catching you off guard. The intro is spearheaded by glistening guitar riffs that shimmer with unspoken tension, drenched in an emo-inspired melancholy that feels both modern and retroactively familiar. There’s a distinctive clarity in the chords, icy, brittle, yet pulsing with warmth, that instantly carves out a dreamlike, introspective landscape. It’s a sound that recalls early 2000s Midwestern emo, but refined through a contemporary lens that avoids mere nostalgia. Instead, it introduces an atmosphere charged with silent urgency, a moment frozen in time yet always threatening to unravel. As the initial bars play out, you’re no longer a passive listener, you’re emotionally tethered to something fragile and real.
The vocal entry by Cohan Maybank is nothing short of spellbinding. His voice doesn’t leap into the mix with aggression or flair, it gently folds into the existing textures, as though his emotions were stitched into the very fabric of the instrumentation. There’s a gentle, quivering restraint in his delivery, each word sounding like it’s been carefully considered, as if speaking them aloud might tear open an old wound. His tone is reminiscent of artists who’ve mastered the art of vulnerability, voices that tremble at the edge of control not from weakness, but from the weight of what’s being expressed. Cohan’s delivery carries a kind of weary wisdom, one that suggests lived experiences, silent heartbreaks, and inner monologues that stretch late into the night. His presence doesn’t dominate, it haunts, lingers, and invites you in like a trusted confidant whispering through static.
Instrumentally, the band exhibits a deeply intuitive understanding of how to construct emotional tension and release. The guitar work is particularly expressive, moving from crystalline arpeggios to distorted crescendos with the kind of precision that feels more spiritual than technical. The transitions are so seamless you hardly notice when the song has shifted gears until you feel the emotional impact land in your chest. Beneath this, the drumming is beautifully measured, every snare crack and cymbal wash placed with intent, never flashy, but always purposeful. The rhythm doesn’t force itself forward; it pulses like a second heartbeat, guiding the ebb and flow of the track’s emotional currents. The band’s synergy feels instinctual, as if each member is finishing the other’s sentences in a conversation not spoken but felt.
What’s particularly captivating is how the vocals and instrumentation don’t merely coexist, they interact in a way that’s almost conversational. At times, the guitars seem to respond to the emotional tone of Cohan’s voice, echoing his vulnerability with tender flourishes or distorted outbursts. This interplay creates a rich emotional texture where every musical element feels emotionally reactive, alive, and deeply empathetic. The sonic space is drenched in reverb and layered delicately so that nothing feels crowded, and yet everything feels full. It’s a fine-tuned balance between intimacy and atmosphere, close enough to feel personal, expansive enough to feel cinematic. Together, voice and instrumentation conjure a shared emotional vocabulary that speaks to quiet grief, soft reflection, and the moments where the weight of memory becomes too much to carry alone.
From a production standpoint, this track is a masterclass in how to maintain raw authenticity while delivering a polished sonic experience. The mix is clean but never sterile, with each element given just enough room to breathe and resonate without losing its emotional grip. The reverb isn’t used as a crutch, it’s used as an extension of feeling, helping to stretch and suspend certain moments in time. The guitars ring with just the right amount of edge, and the low end subtly anchors the mix without ever overpowering the ethereal qualities of the higher frequencies. Everything feels cohesive, intentional, and emotionally tuned, not just to sound good, but to feel right. There’s an emotional intelligence behind the engineering choices here that amplifies the artistic vision rather than diluting it.
The emotional landscape that unfolds throughout the track is one of suspended introspection, caught between mourning something lost and trying to make peace with what remains. Personally, I felt an almost involuntary stillness come over me as the song unfolded. It transported me to a mental space where time felt slower, where each passing second carried more weight than usual. The title, IS 12:00 THE NEW 420?, at first glance appears tongue-in-cheek, but as the song progresses, it gains a poetic ambiguity, suggesting a new kind of ritual, a redefinition of release, or perhaps a time where emotional unraveling has become the new normal. It’s that rare kind of song that leaves you with more questions than answers, but the questions are worth holding onto. It makes you think, but more importantly, it makes you feel.
Annual Killers have achieved something genuinely profound with this track. IS 12:00 THE NEW 420? isn’t just a musical composition, it’s a distilled emotional state, crystallized in sound. It doesn’t shout or beg for attention; it deserves it. Through its layered musicality, restrained yet powerful vocal delivery, and deeply evocative mood, the band invites listeners into a shared emotional space, one where heartache, reflection, and quiet hope coexist. It’s the kind of song that becomes a companion, that you return to not just to listen, but to reconnect. And in a world brimming with noise, that kind of subtle brilliance is nothing short of rare.
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