Steven Bamidele is back: powerful in its messages and overflowing with style, it’s time to buckle up for THE CRASH! – an impactfully authentic album in an age of the artificial.
Release date: September 5, 2025 | Tru Thoughts Recordings | Facebook | Instagram | Stream/Purchase
‘Everybody wants to live a good life, but everything’s getting fucking harder’
This particular, hard-hitting refrain is comfortably nestled quarter of an hour into THE CRASH! – the sophomore album from Nigerian-born, London-based singer, songwriter, musician, and producer Steven Bamidele. It’s a stark, resonant sentiment that pulls no punches and stands proudly amongst other themes that the record wrestles with. After all, THE CRASH! is founded on steep personal investment, with an introspective Bamidele’s own struggles and revelations profoundly apparent both musically and lyrically. And yet, despite the array of poignant subjects, many songs on the album still herald immediate warmth and an infectious sense of groove that incite both a physical and emotional response.
Channelling diverse strands of influence and creativity, the album presents a compelling concoction of sound: it entwines soul, jazz, and R&B, bolstering undeniably classy genes with sparkling modernity and a clear demonstration of Bamidele’s lifelong passion for music. Electronic trinkets adorn a body of richly textured keys, all lending sleekness to his falsetto vocals which are spectacularly performed and frequently drenched in reverb. It’s all fondly reminiscent of Quinn Oulton‘s excellent Alexithymia, and is executed with much of the same confidence. Woven together through Bamidele’s heartfelt and insightful lyricism, THE CRASH! charts ‘a thought-provoking journey in pursuit of something real in an age of hyper-curation and superficiality’, and certainly succeeds.
The musical variety on display demonstrates Bamidele’s exquisite songwriting – a growingly undervalued craft as digital media presents a seemingly deepening, ever expansive mire of ‘AI slop’. The audible evidence of time and work put in here is obvious, as the distinctive singles indicate but certainly do not monopolise. Throughout THE CRASH!, tones and textures vary: one minute, the allegorical “If It Matters” injects instant vibrancy and life, before “Wreckage” arrives as something of an anomaly: referencing a tragic event over surprisingly upbeat instrumentals sets a striking tone and, in doing so, highlights a discomforting yet justified indictment of how some people respond to tragedy in the age of social media.
Lo-fi keys underscore the bars propelled by UK collaborator Cam Thomas on “Cuckoo Goes The Clock” – a punctuating track that calls to mind the get-up-and-go kit work and vocal cadence of Jordan Mackampa. Admittedly, the tone is different here, with Bamidele and Thomas questioning an existence wherein people choose to heavily curate their life for public consumption, trading authenticity for hollow performativity. He states on Tru Thoughts Recordings, ‘We can’t expect religion, or music, or love, to power us through everything in life. What we need to get us out of bed in the morning must come from within’. It’s a valid if bitter pill, swallowable largely thanks to how supremely catchy the song is while confronting disingenuous portrayals of reality online: ‘Who’s gonna be the straw to break the camel’s back/While the rest of us are working on our feigned reactions’ is the question asked, with a pertinent reminder that when it comes to being true in an age of artificiality, these days, you ‘Can’t make shots if you never take any/And any deadweight too heavy’.
Another personal highlight for me is “Turn Ugly”, kicking off with a progression and piano/percussion combo that conjured memories of Massive Attack‘s anthemic “Paradise Circus“. However, it quickly blossoms into something more akin to Wallflower-era Jordan Rakei – a work of similarly, deceptively complex composition. “Turn Ugly” is driven forward with pulsations of electric guitar to complement the firm footing of its piano rooting, and we’re even treated to a sprinkling of breakbeat to up the pace towards the end, ensuring that any toe tapping, head-bopping compulsions don’t deplete entirely.
Honestly, it’s so easy to venture down rabbit holes of intrigue like these and dissect the wonderful details in each song on THE CHASE!, such is the refreshing sense of genuine soul and character. “The Fool” – which sees renowned artist Sly5thAve join the fun – is impossible to resist, especially when that tasty saxophone flutters in to seduce me (as if crisp snare, sparkling arpeggios, and delicious passing chords weren’t already making me consider the possibility and legality of marriage to ‘a sound’). I even adore the house vibes ruminating on “Take Cover”, with Bamidele backed by a softly undulating synth that pulls you close and releases you to arm’s length over several minutes in a textured dance of perpetual motion and percussive consistency.
Elsewhere, to contrast the hip-hop jaunt experienced on tracks like “Truman”, the record’s R&B genetics become more overt: “Nichiyoubi” finds Célia Tiab lend her sweetened vocals for the first of two appearances on the album, while “Withdrawn” slows things right down as we join Bamidele (accompanied beautifully by Scarlett Fae who also featured on past track “Kaleidoscope”) in tenderly navigating lyrics that detail evident confusion and hurt. Moments like these counter the sprightly, fizzling bounce scattered throughout the album, but aptly highlight life’s unpredictability. Then, at the close, “Phone Home” is our moonlit plea from Bamidele. Bassy and wistful, his harmonic croons accompany us alongside slow, rising keys and the skills of trumpeter Aaron Wood; it’s an ambiguous ending, and THE CRASH! peters out to a dusky conclusion as Bamidele’s sultry, soulful sounds dissipate into fog.
Steven Bamidele was a new discovery for me prior to writing this, but his music and the issues, ideas, and questions it raises rightly warrant attention. THE CRASH! can – and should – turn heads for its messages as much as for its fantastic musicality; it easily positions Bamidele firmly among peers by balancing deeply personal insights and ruminations upon the shoulders of soulful, playfully textured, and timeless instrumentation.
