When I go looking for music to review, the first question I ask myself is, "Is this something I would listen to?" There are two ways that question can be answered. One is an immediate "hell yeah" when it lands squarely in my wheelhouse. The other is a quieter "yes", where something catches my attention and pulls me in, leaving me curious to discover where it might lead. This album very much falls into that second category, but not for long, I was soon a willing captive.

Once I have grown comfortable with the music, I tend to dig a little deeper. Opening Alexander’s website, one line immediately stands out: "this is an album about masculinity and the mental health crisis facing young men". It is a topic that has come sharply into focus over the past few years. One of the most striking examples of this is Ren’s 2022 release "Hi Ren", a song that genuinely knocked me for six the first time I watched the video. Mental Health became something to discuss and not cower behind.

As seems popular now, the album opens with "Prelude". Someone walking. Running? Layered over this a beautiful soundscape of musical excerpts and sound bites, which closes out, pretty much how it started. It only runs a little over a minute, but it's something easy to lose yourself in if it were longer.

It comes as little surprise, on hearing Alexander’s vocals on "Lewisham Conversation", to learn that he is from South London. His accent is subtle: not hidden, but never spotlighted. It is an extraordinary song, one that carries a full, atmospheric weight reminiscent of Craig Armstrong’s work. Listening to it demands your full attention; it is difficult to think of anything else as the story unfolds. Although it is by far the longest track on the album, the immersion is so complete that it ends sooner than you are ready for.

As "The Toughening" begins, I am briefly reminded of another London artist, this time North London’s Louis Dunford. It is probably the guitar more than anything else, but I am always amused by the way my mind plucks out these comparisons mid air, especially when they lead me back to another Londoner. Rather than something anthemic, the song envelops you in a narrative, a story of painful discovery. There are moments where it builds into what feels like a brief maelstrom of pain, that overwhelming noise in your head where you want to scream. One lyric in particular would not let go of me: “you mustn’t let your mother hear you cry”. It is an unbearable burden to place on a child. The lyrics throughout are heart wrenching and powerful, but that single thought lingered long after the song ended.

In what almost feels like a follow on, the title track "Everythinglessness" carries a dreamlike quality. It feels like an attempt to hold someone in stasis, suspended in limbo, safe and wrapped, almost protected. It offers a brief respite, one that is painfully fleeting. There is something especially striking toward the end of the track, where the sound swells and soars before abruptly cutting out, reminiscent of the dying of the Martians in Jeff Wayne’s "War of the Worlds".

"Please Don’t Tell My Mother" is a deeply affecting piece that explores despair and a moment of profound inner reckoning. Everything appears to be aligned, only for the realisation to arrive that you are no longer the same person you were before the sun rose. On the surface it may sound maudlin, and perhaps it is, but there is also an unmistakable ethereal quality running through it. The final minute brings the song to a close with a choral section that feels almost hymn like, before fading into the sound of a dripping tap, a detail that becomes hauntingly clear once you have listened to the track.

From despair, the album turns toward hope with "Signs of Life", perhaps its most unconventional track. Two kindred spirits meet in a chemist, share their worries, and find comfort through a mutual understanding of pain. There is a subtle EDM influence running beneath the song, understated and carefully restrained, never intruding but instead providing a gentle framework for the words to drift across.

The story continues with "These Are The Days", a beautiful, guitar driven track. Our kindred spirits now seem firmly entwined in each other’s lives, cocooned within a temporary bubble where earlier pain feels like a distant memory. Such is the power of love. Sometimes the balm that is needed to begin healing, other times an unconscious exclusion of the outside world. Another weighty song at nearly 6 minutes, but you are so invested, you don't notice it.

A brief intermission follows with the aptly titled “Interlude”. Running at just over a minute, it continues the narrative through fragments of a message left on an answering machine.

Next comes one of the more upbeat tracks, "Talk". While the music lifts the mood, the narrative remains consistent with the rest of the album. An acoustic guitar underpins the song, with drums driving it forward and the occasional slide guitar adding a very slight country twang. It's very much a track that encourages someone to speak up, so easy to say, yet often so difficult to do.

We’ve all likely experienced the sentiment behind “To Feel Love”. When you are at your lowest ebb, there is that desperate need to feel something else, to feel loved. It may not always be the best idea given your mindset, but it is entirely understandable.

Another brief interlude, but this one, given the narrative packs one of the biggest punches, "21 Missed Calls", something we have all dreaded, feared or experienced at least once in our lives.

We reach perhaps the emotional nadir of the album with "Her Final Breath". The piano conveys a sense of motion, echoing both the rush through the hospital and the racing of thoughts. You can sense the inevitability, yet the conversation between them, the final goodbye, is heart wrenching, sad, and yet strangely comforting. The words linger, offering reflection and guidance. The music swells with emotion before quietly fading away.

"Requiem" I feel is very much a part of the previous track. It's like a eulogy in music. Brief at just under 2 minutes, but effective.

We arrive at the end of the album with "The Softening", a clear companion to "The Toughening". Elements from earlier tracks resurface, along with the same ethereal atmosphere. This is very much a song of resolution and closure. Beautiful vocal harmonies accompany it, but, as with many of the tracks, the focus remains on the vocals themselves.

At first, I considered this a concept album, but a look at the website describes it more as "each song serves as a reflection on pivotal moments in life". Even so, there remains a central story that flows throughout the album, whether intentional or not.

Alexander’s album is a moving journey through despair, hope, and reflection, built on a foundation of rich, immersive music. From the opening moments, atmospheric arrangements and subtle, expressive vocals draw the listener into the world of the album, setting the emotional stage for the stories that unfold. Darker, heart-wrenching tracks are balanced by moments of connection and uplift, where the instrumentation, whether ethereal soundscapes, acoustic guitars, or understated harmonies, carries the narrative without ever overpowering it. By the closing track, the album resolves with a sense of calm and closure, leaving a lasting impression of both emotional depth and musical craftsmanship.

We're only in January, but surely this will be up there at the end of the year as one Indie Launchpad's top albums of 2026.