8/10
Patrick Manian’s new album 'Cranky' is a decade’s worth of soul-searching, a musical diary etched in dusty notebooks on sleepless nights. It’s the kind of record that demands your full attention, best experienced alone with headphones, when you’re most likely to confront your own ghosts.
Right from the opening track 'Rightly So', you feel Manian’s intimate pulse. There’s an unguarded sincerity in lines like “You can see right through me,” setting the tone for an album that refuses to hide behind metaphor or pretence.
Then, as if catching a second wind, he throws us into 'Don’t Be Shy'. It’s a gentle wake-up call to seize love while it’s within reach, shimmering with keys that dance like sunbeams on a car dashboard.
'Never Attained Anything' follows, a psychedelic swirl of self-reckoning that reads like a letter to a younger self. You can hear the tension between yearning for stability and accepting the impermanence of everything.
Other standout moments include 'Peace and Quiet', which shimmers like an exhale at the end of a long day. It moves from hushed folk reverie into cathartic bursts, echoing the emotional tides of exhaustion and fleeting relief. Meanwhile, 'Testaverde' unpacks the masks we wear, dancing on that razor’s edge between vulnerability and performative armour.
The album closes on 'Old Rust', a track that starts with a quiet folk lament before exploding into a triumphant, almost Springsteen-esque drive. Manian’s reflections on fear, self-doubt, and the slow burn of time resonate deeply, capturing a tender and moving aura as he goes.
What makes 'Cranky' so compelling is its unwavering honesty. These songs aren’t polished platitudes or radio-ready earworms. They’re raw nerve endings, conversations with the self, messy and alive. Patrick Manian has crafted a modern folk-rock masterpiece that rewards patience and introspection. It’s a record for those who want to feel their music echo within their bones.
