Photo Credit: Oliver Roberts
Montello have discovered that heartbreak doesn’t have to stand still. On ‘Eleanor (When Will You Learn)’, the Wigan/Manchester indie quartet turn romantic frustration into three-dimensional indie escapism, wrapping dysfunctional relationships and emotional exhaustion in jangling guitars, swaggering melodies and the kind of chorus designed to travel around a packed room.
It is a combination that sits comfortably within Montello’s growing identity. Their music carries melancholy without becoming consumed by it, finding the sweet spot where bittersweet storytelling meets the immediate rush of a great indie-rock song. ‘Eleanor (When Will You Learn)’ might be rooted in disappointment, but musically it refuses to mope.
Produced by Bank Holiday’s Luke Owens, the track wears its British indie influences proudly. There are flashes of The Vaccines and early Arctic Monkeys in its directness, while echoes of The Smiths, The Stone Roses and Oasis emerge through the jangling guitar work and unmistakably northern melodic sensibility. Yet Montello pulls those familiar ingredients together with enough personality to avoid simply becoming an exercise in nostalgia.
The waltzing drum pattern is particularly effective. Rather than charging forward with conventional indie-rock urgency, the rhythm gives ‘Eleanor’ an almost circular movement, appropriately mirroring a relationship trapped in the same exhausting patterns. Guitars shimmer and jangle around it, while the vocal melody supplies the track with the anthemic quality necessary to turn private frustration into something communal.
That tension between movement and emotional stagnation sits at the heart of the song. ‘Eleanor’ documents the draining experience of caring for somebody seemingly incapable of looking beyond themselves. The titular question—“When will you learn?”, isn’t really asked with any expectation of receiving an answer. Instead, it carries the exhaustion of somebody who has asked versions of the same question countless times before.
Montello describes the mood as “banging-your-head-against-the-wall chic”, and it is difficult to find a better phrase for it. Sarcastic declarations of affection sit alongside bargaining and exasperation, capturing the strange emotional contradictions that can keep dysfunctional relationships alive long after common sense suggests they should have ended.
What makes the writing effective is its relatability. Montello aren’t attempting to dissect the relationship with excessive poetic abstraction. The frustration is immediate and conversational, allowing listeners to recognise their own experiences within the song. Most people have known an Eleanor, or perhaps, less comfortably, been one.
The band’s delivery ensures that those heavier emotions never overwhelm the record. Jacob Knowles’ vocal carries the right balance of sincerity and attitude, while Liam Conway’s lead guitar, Jacob Ratcliffe’s bass and Toby Devereux’s drums give the track a lively, tightly constructed foundation. Together, they make disappointment sound strangely exhilarating.
That instinct for translating melancholy into live-ready indie is likely part of the reason Montello’s ascent has been so rapid. Appearances at Truck Festival and Isle Of Wight Festival, alongside performances at Manchester institutions including the O2 Ritz, Gorilla and a sold-out headline show at Deaf Institute, have given the quartet ample opportunity to sharpen songs for rooms where immediacy matters.
‘Eleanor (When Will You Learn)’ feels purpose-built for those spaces. Its melodies invite participation, its rhythm keeps everything moving, and its lyrical frustration becomes the sort of sentiment a crowd can collectively shout back at the stage.
There is undeniably a nostalgic streak running through the single, particularly for listeners raised on Britain’s indie explosion of the 2000s. But Montello understand that nostalgia works best as a foundation rather than a destination. The references are recognisable, yet the emotional sincerity keeps the track rooted firmly in the band’s own world.
‘Eleanor (When Will You Learn)’ is ultimately Montello doing what they do best: making melancholy move. Sharp, jangling and effortlessly accessible, it turns the exhausting cycle of a dysfunctional relationship into an indie anthem that feels considerably more fun than the situation inspiring it. Heartache might be inevitable, but Montello makes a convincing argument that you may as well dance through it.
