Brendemere – A Decade in the Making, and Worth Every Second
Time is a funny thing in music. Some artists ride the wave of hype, some burn out before they even start, and then there are the ones like Brendemere—who step away for years, only to return with something so meticulously crafted it feels like it was always meant to exist.
The Tucson-born artist’s self-titled album isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s the sound of unfinished business being resolved in the most grandiose way possible.
After a decade-long hiatus following an “astonishingly unsuccessful” attempt at a music career in Seattle, Brendemere dug deep into the archives, breathing new life into songs first penned in his late teens and early twenties. The result? A sweeping, genre-fluid record that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly unpredictable.
Opening track ‘Just Don’t Ask Me to Dance’ wastes no time setting the tone—a punchy alt-pop banger with horns to die for. It’s as catchy as hell, and with the kind of offbeat charm that makes you wonder why indie-pop with brass isn’t more of a thing. That horn-led flair isn’t a one-off either—it’s a signature thread running through the album, giving even the darker moments a sense of vibrancy.
There’s a theatrical streak in songs like ‘I’ve Seen Only Shadows, I’ve Heard Only Whispers’ and ‘Jezebel of the Rhone’, which lean into a slick, radio-friendly polish—think Matchbox Twenty jamming with Santana, but with an extra dose of moody celtic centric sex appeal. Meanwhile, ‘Red Preacher’ turns up the tension, building from restrained, brooding verses into a stormy, horn-drenched chorus, a collision of alt-rock and something almost cinematic in scope.
And just when you think you’ve got Brendemere pegged, he throws in a left hook. ‘Brace for Night’ has all the energy of an ‘80s workout montage (in the best way), while ‘Birds of Distinction’ starts out soft and sentimental before barrelling headfirst into a full-blown rock explosion. ‘A Redefined Heartbeat’, meanwhile, is the kind of emotionally charged, slow-burning anthem that could soundtrack a late-night drive or a last-dance moment at some dimly lit bar.
It’s rare to find an album that feels this cohesive while also refusing to sit still stylistically. Brendemere treads the line between indie-pop, alt-rock, and something almost operatic—at times channeling Heart, The Corrs, and even a little Queen-esque grandeur. ‘Annabelle Lee’ is proof of that, rounding things out with a wistfully and cinematically.
The LP closes with a stunning ode to a beloved – ‘Beverly’s song’ – sublime in its gentleness.
Brendemere might have taken his time bringing this album into the world, but every second was worth it. A debut that doubles as a triumphant return, it’s a record that bridges the gap between past ambition and present artistry—proof that some musical ideas refuse to be forgotten.
Brendemere’s self-titled album is out now. Give it a spin—you won’t regret it.
