Better Things by The Man From Delmonte – Album Review

By Ellie Victor

I was there for The Man From Delmonte first time around. I remember the strange melancholy of ‘Waiting for Anne’, the proto–Belle & Sebastian pop rush of ‘My Love Is Like a Gift You Can’t Return’. Here was a Manchester band defiantly out of step with the burgeoning Madchester wave – a few rapt reviews, some near-devotional shows, a patchy live album (Big Noise) and then they were gone…

To those of us listening, it felt as if they’d simply evaporated into the ether, consigned to the also-ran attic, fondly half-remembered by a sliver of indie die-hards. A Japanese compilation flickered in the late 90s, but the silence held. Then, in 2024, broadcaster and super-fan Iain Lee started tugging at threads, and suddenly the pieces re-aligned – sell-outs, buzz, and now a first studio album proper, some 38 years after TMFD first emerged (I’m sure I’ll hear if that’s some sort of pop world record).

Better Things opener ‘Charles Barry Crescent’ makes the 38-year leap feel effortless – trademark harmonies, bouncy, jangle-bright guitars partying like it’s 1989. “I suppose I haven’t changed so much in all these years,” Mike West sings, half confession, half manifesto. If you came hoping for TMFD v.2025 to be ageless and undiminished, the song delivers. The lineage is intact: the chiming bitters of Orange Juice, the kitchen-table intimacy of the Go-Betweens, the collegiate swoon of early Smiths.

The Man From Delmonte, 2025
image: Ian Tilton

“Perfect sense”

‘Believe Me’ arrives with a brass salvo and a hook that burrows in. There’s more chord crunch and a touch more hipswing in the groove, yet it’s unmistakably Delmonte – breezy on the surface, knotted underneath. ‘Monday Morning After’ is perky and full throttle, even sneaking in a shambling guitar solo that feels like a grin. The title track jaunts along with Herman Düne buoyancy, while ‘Every Time’ nods to Split Enz’s elastic alt-pop – the band simply refusing to divert down unfamiliar roads for novelty’s sake.

But still, they do surprise. ‘Ugly Part of Town’ pivots into an authentic Lee Hazlewood country ballad – handsome, hushed, weathered – which makes perfect sense if you’ve followed West’s “old-time country style” releases since TMFD’s demise. It’s not cosplay; it’s a lived-in detour, a late-night sway at the edge of town. Elsewhere the writing keeps its old candour about desire and identity without circling neon around it. One of the quiet TMFD truths – rarely foregrounded in Manchester myth-making – is how naturally West once sang about loving men and women. The audiences understood; the songs carried the proof.

What I hear, most of all, is continuity without calcification. The choruses stack with the geometry of ABBA; the ragged momentum occasionally flashes the chiming, widescreen shimmer of The Chameleons; there’s even a sly wink of Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘59th Street Bridge Song’ in the swing of a middle eight. But nothing feels pasted on. Sheila Seal, Martin Vincent and Howard Goody keep things light on their feet – jangly, yes, but never featherweight.

“Bright and buoyant”

If there’s a quibble, it’s textural. TMFD were never studio alchemists, and a shade more sonic risk might have nudged this further – I’d have welcomed it. But that caveat recedes as the earworm count mounts. The point isn’t that they’ve reinvented themselves as a 2025 indie-algorithm act; it’s that they haven’t. They trust propulsion, melody and conversational specificity – the very things that made them singular the first time.

No alarms and no surprises, then – unless you count the gentle shock of finding a band you’d once enjoyed, but frankly forgotten, are still stubbornly themselves. Better Things is exactly The Man From Delmonte album someone, somewhere, has been waiting 38 years for – mostly a rush and a push and a joy, a retro manic-pop thrill. Was it “worth the wait”? The question melts away as the choruses crest. What matters is that it’s here, bright and buoyant, and still finely out of step.
4.0 out of 5.0 stars4.0

More info: themanfromdelmonte.com

Ellie Victor( Writer )

Ellie has spent over three decades dissecting riffs, rhythms, and rockstar egos, all in pursuit of the perfect review. Her music writing journey began at 12 with a glowing 10/10 diary entry for Echo and the Bunnymen, and she’s been chasing that high ever since. Armed with encyclopaedic knowledge and a soft spot for the sonically daring, Ellie will review anything that’s put in front of her – as long as it’s on vinyl.

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