There’s a certain magic when a debut feels both familiar and necessary — when it reminds you of summers gone but also makes you believe in the future of indie again. Leicester’s The Harbours bottle that exact feeling on their first EP, Are We Nearly There Yet?, a five-track burst of unfiltered optimism, festival hedonism, and heart-on-sleeve storytelling.
The band arrives at full tilt, all vibrant guitar riffs, glittering hooks and choruses designed for communal shouting in sweat-soaked tents, yet there’s depth tucked beneath the sparkle. Tracks like What Are We Running For? conjure the rush of escape and possibility, threading shimmering melodies through a tension between urgency and euphoria. Meanwhile, Scarlet (Boys That Sing) is practically engineered for summer fields, brimming with the same unshakable charm that made The Kooks and Two Door Cinema Club instant icons of the mid-2000s.
But The Harbours aren’t simply a nostalgia act. There’s an emotional gravity here, a sense of documenting youthful confusion in real time. Their choruses may soar, but they’re tethered by lyrics that speak to uncertainty, transition, and the desire to find meaning in the blur of nights out and fleeting connections. That duality, euphoric energy pressed up against quiet introspection, is what elevates Are We Nearly There Yet? above the usual indie-by-numbers.
It’s no surprise they’ve already found a home on BBC Introducing. In a landscape where guitar music sometimes struggles to define its next chapter, The Harbours stand as proof that a new wave is rising: one that embraces the shimmer of the past while carving out something vividly their own.
If this debut is the first step, then the question isn’t are we nearly there yet? but rather — where will they take us next?