Glide Magazine

“I’m People” is honest and so accessible that it seems as if the storytelling MC Taylor is engaging a single listener, both seated in a cozy room.

A bare quaver and a patch of rough grit here and there are the only signs you’re listening to an octogenarian. The grit actually gives Starr’s voice some character, especially alongside Tuttle on the heartbreaker “She’s Gone” or the sublime duet “You and I (Wave of Love).”

The duo’s employment of a more ambient soundscape pairs beautifully with the raw, often hard-to-hear emotional songwriting. Not that Lost Cause Lover Fool doesn’t retain the welcoming warmth of previous Milk Carton Kids’ outings, but this is a particularly vulnerable side of the duo. There is longing in every moment of this LP that forces the listener to sit in the uncomfortable truths detailed in these songs.

At the same time, that wide scope can work against the album’s cohesion. Some of the transitions feel abrupt, particularly in the middle run, and the pacing can be uneven as a result. But the trade-off is that the record rarely drags and creates a sense of anticipation for what is coming next.

Engines of Demolition shows that Black Label Society hasn’t lost a step over the last 28 years. It’s uncompromisingly heavy while doling out hard rock hooks and introspective meditations on mortality.

While tunes like the shifting/warbling “Slow” are trippy, the band seems more comfortable with tracks like the synth-led off-kilter R&B of “Hit the Ground” and the 50’s rocking, “In the Dead Mall”, which gets its kicks by shoplifting. A few of the more straightforward tunes turn out to be album highlights.

Most of the madcap antics work, while other moments are exciting failures. While it’s not an easy album to digest, it’s fun for those who enjoy the experimental process.

The songs are carefully constructed but never overworked, and the production keeps things loose enough to feel personal. After years of contributing to other artists’ records, this debut makes a convincing case that Morgan Nagler’s own voice deserves just as much attention.

The Format emerges from their dormant state with an eleven-song LP that not only reintroduces the duo as forward-thinking pop mainstays but also all-around daring musicians.

The result is a solo album that feels both intimate and essential, a reminder that his understated approach remains as powerful as ever. It stands among the most affecting entries in his already remarkable catalog.