Toothache Alone I’ll Be by Rory McVicar: A Sonic Puzzle You Can’t Unhear
Let’s get one thing straight—this album isn’t your typical Friday night jam. Nope. Toothache Alone I’ll Be by Rory McVicar is more like that weird art installation you stumble into after taking a wrong turn at the gallery. It’s confusing, kinda abrasive, but also strangely magnetic. Released in 2016 under Static Caravan (a UK label known for championing left-field sounds), this record sits somewhere between rock and electronic music, with dashes of abstract and experimental chaos sprinkled all over it.
Now, let’s talk tracks. The opener, “Toothache,” hits you like… well, a toothache. But not the dull kind—the sharp, stabbing pain that makes you want to scream or laugh because what else can you do? McVicar layers distorted guitar riffs with glitchy beats, creating this uneasy tension that feels like walking on broken glass. Except instead of hating it, you kinda love it. There’s no chorus to cling to, no predictable structure—it’s just raw energy spiraling out of control. And honestly? That’s why it sticks with me. It’s messy, imperfect, and refuses to play nice. Kinda like life itself.
Then there’s “Alone I’ll Be,” which flips the vibe entirely. If “Toothache” is the chaotic party, this track is the lonely walk home afterward. It starts slow, almost meditative, with these haunting synths that feel like they’re creeping up behind you. By the time the drums kick in, you’re already lost in its hypnotic pull. What gets me most is how McVicar lets silence breathe in this song—it’s not afraid to leave space, to make you sit with your own thoughts. By the end, you’re not sure if you’ve been listening to music or some kind of existential therapy session.
The whole album has this DIY charm, like McVicar locked himself in a shed with a laptop and a bunch of old pedals, just messing around until something stuck. And somehow, it works. Sure, it might not be everyone’s cuppa tea—some folks will probably press skip within 30 seconds—but for those who stick around, there’s something oddly rewarding about letting this album unravel in its own weird way.
Here’s the kicker though: as much as I admire Toothache Alone I’ll Be, it leaves me wondering—is Rory McVicar trying to reinvent music, or is he just trolling us? Either way, hats off to him. This album’s a trip, man. One minute you’re vibing, the next you’re scratching your head, and before you know it, you’re hitting replay.
