If its six, lengthy tracks appear slightly light in quantity, their unfolding riches more than justify their quality.
Each song is a journey unto itself, landing on a pretty melody for a short while and then moving on and never looking back.
It’s undeniably a slacked out soundtrack for dopey wallflowers everywhere, but ‘Unreal’ is also a surprisingly progressive affair that speaks to your soul.
After spending time with the album you’ll find that each song possesses an airy, sing-songy hook that’s easy to latch onto.
This is warm, sleepy music that buzzes like a fridge. Best heard lying down.
Perhaps Blumberg didn’t know at the start that the Hebronix release would lead to a split from his band, but most of the six songs on Unreal catch him in the mood to say goodbye.
Blumberg is a capable, if not particularly distinguished guitarist. He is also a songwriter with an unusual gift for sticky, familiar hooks and the issue here is that Unreal puts far more emphasis on the former.
For all the novel ideas and soundscapes Blumberg packs into Unreal, the record gets dragged down by excess.
It dishes out moments of pure brilliance and moments of pure laziness in equal part, which is possibly the result of Blumberg being left to his own devices a little too much.
Blumberg’s drowsiness gets the better of him. When pitted against chunkier hooks and punchier songs, his voice shambles winningly.