Imbred’s fourth album to cross our path is one that again sees him climb a little higher up the creative ladder – as well as that of professionalism. Creep deals partly with what the title promises, though topics vary to keep things interesting, and it delivers consistently with this familiar Nirvana-style set-up and the unmistakable yet ever-unexpected innocence of that leading vocal tone.
There’s an immediate level of clarity to this project, a less grunge-like, more indie-rock-soaked aura – a little more similar to the likes of The Strokes but still with that alternative lyricism and the heavy guitar and drum work. It works well to hear the vocal more loudly within the mix, the concept and the subtle emotional intricacies help the mood and energy of the music connect with all the more relevancy. Opening track Freakshow, as an example, sets the perfect kind of scene for fellow freaks to revel within and briefly overcome feelings of isolation.
The title track afterwards injects a comforting and familiar riff and continues down the pathway for the obscure and the misfits. Brilliant guitar work emerges during the latter half, even leaning towards a slight Oasis influence on top of everything else.
Imbred has never been one to shy away from honesty in his songwriting, and this project speaks louder than ever on behalf of that. Songs like Depression get right into the gritty details of difficulty and personal turmoil – again in a relatable, loud and stress-relieving manner. She Doesn’t Care afterwards is an early highlight and a definite anthem of a song – short lines and a quickly likable, almost dead-pan verse delivery kind of reflects back on her not caring by appearing as if the singer too doesn’t really give a damn. Another simple yet strong guitar-line adds a recognizable element to the soundscape.
At the halfway point, things take a turn towards politics – Anarchy displays a call to overthrow the government, simple short lines again lay out the underlying thoughts in a clear and unapologetic way. Bored then leads with a gentler set-up, an off-key guitar and a surprisingly bare, intimate vocal that again tips its hat to Cobain melodically and delivery-wise. Sad afterwards sees the energy soar as intensely fast-paced guitar and drum work rains down around you. The personal touch offers an understanding, a certain desire to escape and connect all at once.
During the latter half, Scars is an easy stand-out for the contrast between the lower distorted notes and the high-end electric guitar riff that flickers in and out of reach. The meeting between the vocal melody and the guitar works well to create an entrancing, memorable moment. That self-awareness and talk of not belonging reaches out to those who share in a similar state of dismay. Numb afterwards extends on this, leading with a softer acoustic sound, and a seemingly free-flowing, almost spontaneous melody-line; the whole thing feels like an impromptu diary reading in some ways. Imbred pours his personal truth into the process, performance-wise and lyrically, hiding behind nothing and effectively showcasing an admirable level of fearlessness.
Why should I take your advice, when you don’t like me anyway?
At the final hurdle, Greenday-esque power chords storm through, accompanied by a grungey vocal loop that repeats a select few ideas and leaves a lingering high energy in the room – finishing things up with a bang. The concept of I Don’t Care was hinted at earlier, and here it reaches its peak – closing the show with a sense of well being, of personal strength and overcoming.
A notably vast gathering of topics appear throughout this album, laying out a whole host of sides to the songwriter, essentially making for an eclectic and genuine album – the sort of ‘album’ that used to be, that would encapsulate a meandering spectrum of details and feelings, offering a real experience – complete with ups and downs – not unlike life itself. Undoubtedly his best project to date, by quite a leap.
Check out Imbred’s other releases here.
