If you’re hunting for an album that shakes you senseless, and then leaves you weirdly wanting more, you’ve just found it. Ceyeo‘s latest offering, “Together They Were Nothing”, is the third act from the Chicago-based songwriter, vocalist, and producer, and it’s a deliberate, searing pivot.
Unlike the hope and optimism of 2023’s ‘Baby I Care’, this release is a dive into the gnarly underbelly of human emotion. “Anger, anxiety and despair due to unhealthy relationships, greed and the lack of unity in the world.” Let me translate that from rock-crit speak: this album is a goddamn explosion. It’s the sound of someone staring into the abyss and screaming back.
First off, let’s talk about the architect. Ceyeo is the mastermind here—the writer, the voice, the producer, and the guy hammering the keyboards and saxophone. He’s classically trained, but don’t let that fool you into thinking this is some polite, conservatory-approved music. This is literate, pissed-off rock that subverts pop conventions and spits them out.
But a general doesn’t win a war alone, and Ceyeo has assembled a killer squad to bring this sonic assault to life. Ryan Streeter on guitar lays down the riffage and textures that are absolutely essential to this record’s gritty vibe. Luca Giachi on bass is the anchor, providing that low-end thrum that you feel in your chest, while Fede Gucciardo on drums is the explosive engine room, driving these tracks with a controlled chaos.
And then there are the guests who add their own nitro boost to the mix. Katie Burke lends her vocals to the opener “Confession,” creating a haunting dynamic that sets the tone perfectly. Maga Clavijo‘s violin on “I Can Tell” is a stroke of genius, adding a layer of melancholic beauty amidst the turmoil. Shoutout to Adam Ward and Vinnie Henrico for their contributions on “Confession,” laying down a foundational force that the rest of the album builds upon. All of it is mixed and mastered to gritty perfection by Max Honsinger.
So, what does this beast sound like? It’s a 7-track, 21-minute blast furnace. It doesn’t waste a second. From the brooding “Confession” that builds like a storm cloud to the frantic, almost punk energy of “This Is How You Win” that closes the record, it’s a great journey. You can feel the whiskey-soaked desperation in “I Can Tell” and the fiery, weaponized passion in “Love Is Angry.” Tracks like “Bedlam” and “Colossus” are epic in scope, wrestling with societal collapse and personal demons, while “Contact” takes you on a trippy, late-night journey through memory and loss.
This is for when you’re driving too fast at night, staring at the ceiling at 3 AM, or just need to feel something real. Ceyeo has created an album that is both a product of our fractured times and a defiant response to them.