The captivating new album from Patrick Manian, Cranky immerses in its dynamic stylistic arsenal and sincerely emotive songwriting. From the folk-set contemplation of “Rightly So” to the soulful pop nostalgia within “Don’t Be Shy,” Cranky is consistently memorable. A thematic traversal of the human experience shows alongside, exploring love, self-discovery, doubt, and existence through a personal lens.
Recorded between NYC and West Texas, Cranky holds a clear throughline of honesty and vulnerability. It’s music meant to be experienced fully through headphones, due to its expansive sonic elements and strong lyrical prowess. The result is a thorough success from Manian, also noted for his work with other bands, including Mobile Steam Unit. Cranky compiles songs Manian has written over the past ten years, being aptly reflective of experience accumulated in life throughout that period.
A soaring folk introspection takes hold with the opening track “Rightly So,” where sentiments of personal growth and self-discovery resonate artfully within acknowledgements of an uncertain world. “You can see right through me, rightly so,” Manian’s vocals let out, aptly setting up for an album full of heart-on-sleeve enthrallment. The production on this opener reminds fondly of Father John Misty’s cinematic folk allure, approachable yet also impactfully intimate.
The ensuing “Don’t Be Shy” achieves a different stylistic route entirely, with a soulful pop charisma riding on warbled keys and bouncy rhythms — showing shades of Supertramp in its melodic, replay-inducing nostalgia. The lyrics compel in urging one to embrace love while it’s still there, asking “Life is moving by quick / Are we wasting half of it?” with a carpe-diem sense of urgency. Ruminations on fleeting time continue on “Never Attained Anything,” achieving a Rundgren-esque nostalgia amidst a radiant psych-pop illumination. “When you’re always starting over, the world is a flash,” Manian sings, noting how time is slipping into the “go boom” foreboding. The track proves commanding in its spiritual undertones — conveying a search for meaning, humility before the unknown, and a notion of existential surrender in the face of it all.
Another highlight arises in “Peace and Quiet,” which moves from hazy psych-folk dreaminess into an expressive ardency in its closing minutes. “I could use some peace and quiet,” layered vocals admit alongside soft acoustic strums and click-clacking percussion, reflective of emotional exhaustion within a world full of tumult. Highs and lows are emitted — “This confusion this bliss / This contusion this rift” — with tactful precision, in experiencing only temporary reprieves, like a brief breeze, from hardships.
“Testaverde” also displays riveting songwriting, continuously charismatic in its impassioned vocal depictions amidst a timeless-feeling folk-rock entrancement. Perspectives on personal identity flow like a poetic plea, admitting “you might say that I love to wear a disguise / Don’t we all or is it just me who is shy?” The concluding “what I truly am” refrain invigorates — feeling like a desire to understand oneself, and championing a sort of renegade spirit in rejecting authority and prioritizing individuality, in admitting “I can’t tell Uncle Sam.”
“Old Rust” imparts a powerful sound as well, particularly as a concluding “south-bound train” sequence mesmerizes in its high-flying guitar work and harmonious vocal layers, echoing a ’70s rock nostalgia. A sparser folk mystique shows initially, as lyrics grapple with doubt and fear — using the titular “old rust” as comparison to the lingering remnants of self-doubt. “But I’ve not gained one year, running from a single fear,” Manian’s vocals exude, later referring to that running as a “losing game” — and instead hoping “for a brighter day to appear” rather than striving to constantly escape. Patrick Manian’s Cranky impresses with an abundance of quality, from-the-heart songwriting.
