Glyders

Few albums in 2023 swept my feet out from under me like Glyders’ Maria’s Hunt. The record boiled blues, country, garage, and a sinewy layer of psych down to a simmer, filling the room with a pungent perfume and a touch of greasy smoke. The band had an effortless cool to them, one that only came more alive as the band hit the stage. The record left a heavy impression on the years that followed and even bigger expectations for a follow-up. With Forever, the band makes good on those expectations, still stirring that genre brew, and letting the components grow wilder in the intervening years. They barrel roll through the gate on those greased blues instincts. Choked exhaust thunder has long been the band’s best weapon and they skid into the scene with “Super Glyde,” followed in short order by “Stone Shadow.” It’s a potent reminder of how heavy the band can be when they focus their brass knuckled choogle.

The album is, on the whole, encased in a tougher shell than their previous record. Those garage-blues pummelers cropped up on Maria’s Hunt, but there were plenty of stops to cool and collect among the strums and country air. On Forever, the band seems less inclined to let up, and maybe that’s a reflection of the times we’re tackling. 2025 calls for hackles, begs for the bristled exterior of the opening pair or the glazed psych scorch of “Hard Ride.” When Glyders let their guard down, though, they’ve still got a tenderness that’s hard to match. “Moon Eyes” pairs the strums with a kind of deep, ingrained groove, and the album shudders to a close with the heavy sighs of “Thousand Miles,” a road anthem that tosses itself down on the bed, exhausted to the marrow. Where the last album focused on the band’s malleability, this one sharpens their approach to rock’s gritty underbelly. It’s as toned as they’ve ever been, and bound to leave a bruise on the listener.

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