Some albums capture a mood so specific that you can't help but feel like they were ripped straight from your diary. This could easily describe 'Cringe', an album by American singer-songwriter Matt Maeson that dropped on March 29, 2019, under the labels Neon Gold and Atlantic Records. From erasing the barrier between authenticity and artistry, Matt Maeson puts all his raw noise onto the table. 'Cringe', the leading single and titular tune from his debut album, essentially redefines the idea of discomfort in the digital and personal eras. Maeson’s music video even sets the stage in an abandoned rundown small-town scene reminiscent of a lost place you may vaguely know from some dusty childhood adventure.
Imagine listening to your thoughts stretch into every corner of your room as Maeson belts out lyrics, seemingly questioning every fundamental aspect of identity. 'Cringe' is not just another track. It's confessional, confronting, and relatable, making you stand bare in front of your own insecurities. The track, fittingly titled, digs into the uncomfortable parts of life—questioning vulnerability and social authenticity in a world where everyone is their own highlight reel. That whisper of self-awareness might resonate a little more because of our shared trait of masking authenticity on digital platforms.
The whole album threads together similar themes, but 'Cringe' stands out because, well, it's a bop. There's a paradox in its melancholy: it’s emotionally heavy yet musically uplifting. It's like if someone wrote a power ballad to all the moments where you backtracked something you said on a group chat because, in hindsight, it was a little too you. Maeson’s breakaway voice captures this delicate tension with all the emotion left untamed, making it play-worthy for a generation living half online and half in the flesh.
Matt Maeson grew up deeply entrenched in Gospel music, which shows in his visceral connection with spirituality through haunting melodies. His finish wasn’t pristine as he evolved beyond his Gospel roots, leading to the formation of his unique sound. There is a street-made quality reminiscent of his beginnings in Virginia's underground music scene, often having played in metal bands. This rawness cuts through commercialized edges, leading us to an honest outline of what it truly means to be caught between stages.
'Cringe' wasn’t necessarily devised as an anthem, but it feels like one—especially for those navigating the confusing, fragmented spaces Gen Z inhabits. It's hard not to discuss this without considering the album's critical reception. Critics have had mixed feelings. Some praised the raw authenticity, while others labeled it melodramatic. Yet, what better way, really, to express the emotions bubbling up in such a young and vocal generation than via some melodrama?
Not everyone loves 'Cringe'. Its overtness is almost uncomfortable. But isn't that precisely the point? The very nature of being dubbed 'cringe' culturally often connotes an over-the-top, visceral expression of emotions usually left unspoken. It's relatable discomfort—a reflection of what expressing yourself nowadays might feel like amidst vibrations of fleeting opinions and immaterial comparisons.
For Gen Z, where entities like social media double as identity-checkpoints, Maeson's track couldn't have been more timely. It's a musical sigh of relief against the aesthetically pleasing backdrops of our social media feeds. It provides a space to breathe, to feel each note without a filter.
While the 'Cringe' album might not be everyone's glass of kombucha, its notes unpick the tangled web of current and authentic emotions. Its potential to stir diverse standpoints is vital, offering a raw yet encouraging dissection of humanity. The album itself doesn't pretend to sew threads neatly together. Instead, it embraces the chaos, allowing Maeson’s unrestrained voice to sew, snip, and weave whatever narrative the listener is living or reliving.
This space could’ve been taken up by a thousand other songs of love and loss, but 'Cringe' dives into those idle aches we recognize under late-night contemplations. Themes of self-confrontation and vulnerability meet head-on with beats you can’t help but nod your head to, making it both escapism and acknowledgment.
Matt Maeson’s work challenges the listener, a suitable sound echoing the era we grapple with—where social interactions range from pretend casual to outright awkward. His music turns the mundane into significant, the fleeting moments into lyrical memoirs.
For every like, share, or double-tap, 'Cringe' acts as a moment of genuine sound amidst digital soundtracks where we hide more than we reveal. It's an unfiltered communication, welcoming all the bits we plan to edit out. If our current pace of life has got your heart tangled, this album might just be the unravel you need.
Ultimately, 'Cringe' is that hand that slips into yours during an unexpected moment of warmth, unapologetically raw, utterly comforting, and entirely forgivable for all the rough edges it lets you see and feel. It’s a story recount that invokes feeling rather than following, because, after all, maybe standing in our uncertainties and awkwardness with Maeson's soundtrack doesn't sound all that bad.