Art and activism have walked hand-in-hand for centuries, but it has certainly been a while since we’ve seen politically charged songs in the hottest hits. War Child Records is seemingly determined to change the narrative, alongside big-name artists such as pop-princess Olivia Rodrigo, influential indie rock band Arctic Monkeys and a plethora of other politically active musicians. 

Produced by James Ford in a single week of November 2025, the album’s collective creative vision has been mustered into an hour and a half of confronting lyricism, experimental instrumentation, and a surprising synergy between the thirty plus artists who contributed. This is less of a surprise when you consider Ford’s impressive and multi-instrumental production history, fundamentally shaping the previous works of many featured artists. He has produced most of Arctic Monkeys’ albums and The Last Dinner Party’s artsy debut. His genre-blending capabilities create a consistent soundscape of clarity and urbanity, and the layout allows listeners to transition easily from dreamy folk inspirations to anti-establishment rock reminiscent of post-punk sensibilities.  

Thematically, HELP(2) tackles the pillars, symptoms and consequences of the deadly war conflicts we are currently witnessing across the world. The music is excellent, but is the cause true? War Child is a global humanitarian charity that provides immediate aid, education, mental health support and protection to children impacted by war. This album specifically aims to improve conditions for children in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine and Yemen. It’s a relief to see the rawness and honesty of the album reflected in its roots.

Side A

The first side of the tracklist is an introduction to society’s reactions to war.

Beginning with a fitting title, “Opening Night”, by Arctic Monkeys leans into the faraway remnants of the AM album, that signature strong bassline paired with resonant vocals from Alex Turner. As an opener, the song acknowledges the album’s goal in bringing political issues to the forefront of public thought.

On “Flags”, we hear unification. Damon Albarn, reprising his involvement with Blur on the first HELP album, Grian Chattan of Fontaines D.C. and Kae Tempest, come together backed by a 43-piece choir. Building from the initial simplicity of a piano melody line to echoing voices layered together, this track is a bittersweet ascent from abandonment into hope.

Then, the lilting layers of “Strangers,” by Black Country, New Road (BC,NR), mixing folk and rock, depicts a building isolation. The Last Dinner Party’s “Let’s Do It Again!” harnesses the theatrical framing of a chaotic relationship, imbued in the increasing chaos of lead singer Abigail Morris’ vocals and their avant-garde orchestral arrangements. Portishead’s lead singer Beth Gibbons, alternatively, slows down the pace, providing a disenchanted cover of Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning”, floating through the lyrics as if numbed by the horrors of the world.

Side B

Side B of the tracklist encompasses some of the peaks and lows of the album.

For the peaks, listen to Depeche Mode’s cover of “Universal Soldier”, which layers the potent lyrics written by Buffy Saint-Marie in 1964 with their signature electronic, punchy instrumentals. The track is more an omen than a song, which confronts the culpability of praised soldiers who “[without] all [the] killing [couldn’t] go on.”

Follow it up with Ezra Collective and Greentea Peng’s “Helicopters”, which fuses reggae, jazz and soul, and introduces themes of surveillance, media brainwashing and the scapegoating inflicted upon people of colour.

Arooj Aftab and Beck masterfully reproduce “Lilac Wine”. Despite famous covers by Nina Simone and Jeff Buckley, it could be argued that the discordant piano, ambient jazz inspiration, breathy, enchanted vocals and haunting harmonisation rival these classic renditions.

“Nothing I Could Hide” by Arlo Parks, and “Parasite” by English Teacher and Graham Coxon, another returned Blur member, are immensely enjoyable, adding a much-needed tonal shift to the album with indie pop/rock tunes.

Arguably, the lows of the album are “The 343 Loop” by King Krule and “Say Yes”, by beabadoobee. As an instrumental track, King Krule does bridge the dulcet tones of “Lilac Wine” with the edge of “Universal Soldier” well, however repeat listeners could find the track an unnecessary lull from the overflowing emotions of the rest of the album. Beabadoobee’s cover of Elliot Smith’s nostalgic and raw original felt disappointing considering her usual artistry. The song itself? Brilliant. The cover? Unoriginal.

Side C

Side C is the undeniable climax of the album. “Relive, Redie” by Big Thief begins by questioning the cyclical reimagining of identity in an overly “saturated” world.  

Fontaines D.C. then comes in with an emotional sledgehammer that rips down the façade of Western society, where England transforms from mythical to “the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds”. When I discovered this was a Sinead O’Connor cover, I was reminded of her iconic criticisms of child exploitation recurrent in her lyricism. Fontaines D.C. carries her words with honour, their swelling instrumentals pairing well with smooth, pensive vocals.

“Warning” by Cameron Winter acts as the climactic track, a culmination of the string of injustices explored by previous artists. Stream-of-consciousness lyrics that grow in anger, unnerving violin strings struck with increasing force and fervour, layers of lyrical detail and Winter’s low warbling tone are combined to create heightening tension. If your heart isn’t beating heavy after listening, you aren’t listening. Cameron Winter does exactly what the album calls for—he makes a statement. 

“Don’t Fight the Young” by Young Fathers and “Begging for Change” by Pulp address the revolutionary nature of protest, featuring chanting vocals that repeat themselves to deliver a message of defiance towards those who make the rules. Clear, confrontational and energetic, both tracks refer to mid-70s protest punk, backing the youth and the masses “begging for change.”

This side is closed by Sampha’s “Naboo” who uses an electronic soul backdrop to expose overconsumption and urge people to be “thankful.”

Side D

Bittersweet and mystical, the denouement of the album returns to the cost of war. “Obvious” by Wet Leg repurposes their signature ironic, monotone lyrics to describe the feelings of disembodiment and burnout felt by many in these unstable times. More directly, “When the War is Finally Done” by Foals speaks from the voice of a dead soldier gone too soon, poignant in its commentary on the lasting consequences of war—no one truly wins. Another collaborative track, “Sunday Light” by Anna Calvi, Dove Ellis, Ellie Rowsell and Nilüfer Yanya follows a “boy in amber on the stairs / Sunday light through his hair,” subtly addressing the shadows that follow children impacted by war.

Bat for Lashes performs a melancholy lament in “Carried my girl”, as high-pitched, heartbroken vocals tell the universal story of mothers trying to protect their children. A lack of community, pictured by the lone mother carrying her dead baby, is contrasted with the lyric “All our babies / They’re all our babies…” that places responsibility on all of us to care for the vulnerable.

A hopeful track completes the album, a cover of The Magnetic Fields’ “Book of Love” by Olivia Rodrigo that celebrates love with soft guitar strums and angelic runs. When played with its music video filmed by children in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine and Yemen, the true meaning of the song is palpable; protect the innocence of love. War Child hopes to deliver these children regular lives in which they are read to and sung to, in which they are given the simple things that they desire.

These artists have given us a masterpiece, and the least we can do is listen.

The most we can do is let the emotion of the album propel us into action.