Algernon Cadwallader releasing Trying Not to Have a Thought feels like someone cracked open a time capsule labeled “2008 Emo but Make It Adult Anxiety.” The moment the first track kicks in, you’re instantly back in that sweaty DIY venue you definitely weren’t old enough to be in, except now you’ve got a full-time job and lower back pain. Growth!
The album wastes absolutely zero time reminding you why these dudes basically invented “twinkly chaos.” The guitars come in sounding like a handful of wind-up toys sprinting across a linoleum floor, and I mean that as a compliment. Pure serotonin. Pure overstimulation. Pure “I haven’t slept well since 2016 but this album is keeping me alive.”
Track Highlights (a.k.a. emotional damage in audio form)
1. “Spit”
The opener launches straight into that frantic, noodle-y guitar style that Algernon fans probably hear in their dreams like a benevolent haunting. It’s bright, it’s messy, it’s like someone spilled a soda on a guitar pedal board and decided to just roll with it. Lyrically, it sets the tone for the whole album: I’m trying, I swear I’m trying, but also everything is on fire. We’ve all been there.
2. “No Way”
This one feels like the soundtrack to a panic attack that somehow ends in a group hug. The bass line is doing its absolute best to keep the song on the rails while the guitars are sprinting around like caffeinated raccoons. There’s a line in here that hit so hard I had to pause and re-evaluate my life choices, which is exactly what I want when I’m listening to a band that screams their feelings with such sincerity I can’t even make fun of them (for like five seconds).
3. “Trying Not to Have a Thought”
The title track is peak “spiraling but making it catchy as hell.” The guitar riffs here sound like they’re arguing with each other, and the drums are basically acting like a referee with a whistle. There’s this beautiful tension in the chorus — like they’re trying to convince themselves that avoiding thoughts is actually an achievable goal and not the plot of my entire mental health journey. It’s warm, chaotic, and makes you want to run through a field or straight into a wall depending on the mood.
4. “Some Kind of Something”
Okay, this one is straight-up adorable in that “I’m losing my mind but I’m smiling about it” way. The vocals hit that perfect balance between earnest and fraying-at-the-edges. You know that moment when you’re talking yourself into believing everything’s fine even though the house is definitely, absolutely metaphorically on fire? Yeah. That in song form. Also, the ending is so anthemic you could probably fist-pump your way through an entire cardio workout.
5. “There’s a Line”
This track feels like it was written by someone who tried to have one calm thought and failed miserably. The guitars are a little sweeter here, giving off that throwback Algernon warmth, but the lyrics… yikes. Tender, relatable yikes. It’s the kind of song that makes you go, “Oh cool, my feelings have been seen, roasted, and gently handed back to me.”
The Vibe Check
The entire album is this incredibly charming blend of manic energy and genuine vulnerability. It’s like the band is trying to reassure you that yeah, life is confusing and exhausting and occasionally just dumb as hell — but at least we can scream about it together over twinkly guitar riffs.
Vocally, Peter’s delivery still has that “I recorded this while leaning out of a moving vehicle” energy that somehow makes everything feel more honest. The production is warm and intentionally imperfect, like a hug from someone who smells faintly of old show flyers and emotional baggage.
What I love is how the album balances joy with meltdown energy. It’s comforting without being soft. Nostalgic without sounding like a museum exhibit. It’s the sonic equivalent of sitting on a porch with your friends at 2 a.m., talking about life, pretending you’re fine, but laughing anyway because what else can you do?
Final Thoughts
Trying Not to Have a Thought is everything you want from an Algernon Cadwallader album: messy, bright, anxious, earnest, and ridiculously fun. It’s the sound of growing up without fully growing out of your chaos. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most honest thing you can do is scream your heart out while your guitar does parkour.
And if you’re anything like me, you’ll finish the album feeling like you’ve just been emotionally exfoliated. In a good way. Mostly.
MID SOUTH 