You know that tangible feeling you get when listening to music that you can tell was created by people who feel true passion for the art? That feeling is an absolute given when you listen to The Narrows debut album, Chris. Across its quieter reflections and explosive bursts of alternative punk, the album feels deeply personal without ever becoming singular. The Narrows don’t simply rely on lyrics to tell a story — though that alone could certainly captivate you enough — they create an environment for you to inhabit, whether through the warmth of an acoustic, the grit of an electric guitar solo or a memory-preserving voice recording.
Formed in Memphis in 2023 as an acoustic duo, The Narrows have spent the years since widening their sound without losing what brought them together in the first place. The original duo — Owen Traw (vocals, guitar) and Aidan Smith (guitar, vocals) — and their guitar-driven songwriting now find their home in a fuller lineup, with Bella Frandsen’s hearty bass and backing vocals and the deeply soulful drumming of Christian “Chris” Daniels giving the band’s alternative-rock edge a distinct sense of weight and groove.
Their debut full-length, Chris, arrives as both a celebration of that evolution and a tribute to the friend whose playing helped define it. Daniels, a gospel-rooted drummer whose instinctive, expressive rhythms became the anchor of the band, passed away in April of this year, before the record’s release. What began as a title the band jokingly imagined while Chris Daniels was alive became something far more meaningful: a way of keeping his presence embedded in the music and making sure that, wherever the road leads next in the band’s journey, Big Chris is still heard.
The title track, “Chris,” is a stripped-back voice recording accompanied by a dreamful, simplistic soundscape, creating an intimate glimpse into a memory and, more importantly, into the nature of Chris’ personality. It’s a sweet ode to their friendship, and musical proof that will live on forever. The track combines the other voice recording of “1959,” a funny memory of Chris asking a drive-thru worker when Burger King was first opened. It’s a tender, yet lighthearted moment, allowing the album to step outside of conventional songwriting and simply preserve a piece of someone’s life.
“Marpha” immediately draws you in with the warmth of its urgent acoustic guitar strums. Falsetto harmonies float above the instrumentation, accompanied by the jingle of a tambourine, while ambient, almost ominous background vocals add a shadowy undercurrent. Traw’s vocals carry an intimate, Ellio Smith-style quality, keeping the song close and conversational even as its surroundings grow atmospheric. The lyrics allow you to envision the song — the poetry almost visceral. Lines like “Frost entombed a golden day / Worried, the calyx said / Is something in your head?” feel less like something being explained and more like something being sketched directly into your mind.
A subtle, slightly distorted echo of guitar and creaky wood pick up the brush as the musicality begins to paint the picture of “My Stranger.” Then, after a millisecond of silence, the crisp hit of the drum plummets us into a crashing wave of instrumentation. That quick transition establishes the track’s gritty, haunting element, one that lingers throughout. Daniels’ drums push the song to the brink, fueling the liveliness, while Smith’s electric guitar evokes a ripple of sound that feels like we’re spiraling, giving the track an expansive, grunge quality. There’s such a rawness to Traw’s vocals, as Frandsen’s angelic harmonies come in to give a soft contrast. “It’s a beautiful day / But you hold me / While I’m fading away” captures that contrast in lyrical form: beauty and deterioration existing in the same moment.
“I Am Going To Collierville (feat. Cam Deezy)” is a track that is vibrant proof of the band’s ability to swirl together genres and influences. A deep, controlling bass drum anchors the track while Deezy’s rap feature makes the song so dynamic and adds a new active element. Traw moves with each word, allowing his voice to sway with each word’s meaning. The performance never feels detached from the instrumentation. Instead, every vocal inflection seems to respond to what is happening around it. The instrumentals swell in the chorus, becoming an encompassing environment — there’s a beauty within the harsh strength of the soundscape. The vocals have a thin, wallowy tone yet are still weighted by emotion, while the rumbling of the bassline gives the track its smooth, sturdy foundation. The rolling drums that take off in the chorus feel so free yet rooted in intention. It’s so apparent that Daniels moved with every sonic piece of the song.
The band’s cover of Nirvana’s “School,” from their debut album Bleach (debut for a debut), brings an entirely new level of heat to the album. The Narrows bring a new passion and fire to the song, which is especially apparent in Smith’s guitar work and Traw’s vocal presentation. The electric guitar drives the song full force, and the shredding solo is jaw-dropping in its raw intensity. It’s a head-banging hit, turning the naturally abrasive instrumentation of the original into an absolute most-pit punk anthem. The shout-like vocals and their casual, dragging enunciation set blaze to that jumping punk energy that’s been infused in their version. Frandsen’s raspy singing, particularly the repeated “No recess,” keeps the momentum alive, while her striking vocal talent takes center stage as her belting soars from the end of the bridge. The bridge’s “You’re in high school again” has that bare Joy Division quality, with the vocals moving where gravity takes them, alongside the conversational delivery of Talking Heads. The band takes the heavy grunge of the original and morphs that energy into something even more connected to them — reveling in that visceral, fast-paced aggression of alternative punk.
“The Wheel” was the band’s June 2024 debut single, making it a full-circle finale to their debut album. The song quickly became a fan favorite at live shows, as they mimic the lyrics with their hands — pretending to drive “at the wheel,” folding their hands when it’s time to “fall asleep.” Songwriter Traw came up with the song during a bumper-to-bumper drive to Nashville, surrounded by drivers speeding through traffic. The mere thought of that situation is anxiety-inducing: on a road like that, all it takes is one mistake for hell to break loose. That sense of anxiety is what pushes the song, giving it the high energy of a live show. The electric guitar solo gives the captivating power of a ‘70s rock song, shining with musical passion and intuition that you don’t ever want to stop listening to — you’ll find yourself leaning forward, trying to dive deeper and deeper into every note. It’s forceful in the most exciting way.
There’s something so in tune about both The Narrows and their debut album — in tune with music, life and all the whirling emotions that come with it. Chris is a spirited medley of life and memory conveyed through incredible instrumentation from each member that moves from alternative to grunge to punk to indie. The entire album feels played live rather than recorded and experienced rather than heard. For a debut, that sense of identity is powerful, and that power is only going to amplify, release after release.
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