Vince Leigh’s Single Review: Hit or Miss by Hello Enemy
By Vince Leigh (Ex drummer of Pseudo Echo, Tina Arena and John Farnham) of Australian Radio Promotion for Sheldon Ang Media
Hello Enemy’s new single, Hit or Miss, is the kind of thing that comes roaring out of your speakers like a deranged, fire-breathing beast, tearing up everything in its path and leaving you wondering what the hell just happened. It’s a high-octane, no-holds-barred, sonic gut punch that makes you want to down a shot of cheap whiskey and smash your fist through the nearest wall—just for the sheer thrill of feeling something raw and real again. This is grunge in all its messy, chaotic glory, dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century, and thank God for that, because it’s exactly what we needed. The track opens with a taunting, almost mocking chant—’now, now, now’—that feels like the band is daring you to step up and take the plunge.
Then, like a sucker punch to the gut, the guitars crash in with a riff so thick and filthy you could spread it on toast. It’s a headlong dive into the abyss, a delirious rush of fuzzed-out riffs and thundering drums that hits you like a speeding freight train with no brakes. It’s as if the spirit of Seattle never died, just went underground, waiting for someone with the guts to dig it up and let it loose again. Skip McNeil’s vocals are the driving force behind this runaway train, and he sings like he’s got a personal vendetta against the microphone. He’s got that perfect mix of sneer and sincerity, spitting out lines like ‘Tell me where you wanna meet, girl’ with the urgency of a man who knows he’s running out of time. There’s a desperation here that’s palpable, a sense that everything’s on the line, and he’s swinging for the fences, consequences be damned. The lyrics are deceptively simple, but they hit like a sledgehammer, tapping into that primal urge to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. And then there’s the chorus.
It’s the kind of thing that sticks in your brain like bubblegum on a hot sidewalk, all jagged hooks and crashing cymbals, a swirling vortex of sound that pulls you in and refuses to let go. The bridge is a moment of pure chaos, the guitars stabbing and slashing like a knife fight in an alleyway, building to a fever pitch before the final explosion of the chorus. It’s cathartic and chaotic, like a rollercoaster that’s about to fly off the tracks, but somehow miraculously stays on course. And just when you think you’ve got a handle on it, the song ends, leaving you gasping for air and reaching for the replay button.
