EVERY WAKING MOMENT DELIVER A THUNDEROUS STATEMENT WITH LIMINAL

Every now and then, a record comes along that feels bigger than the sum of its parts. Liminal is one of those records.

Every Waking Moment, from Tewksbury, Massachusetts, is the project of Andrew Southworth and Eric Richards. While they’ve been making music together since 2007, this iteration of the band officially took shape in 2022, with Southworth handling vocals and guitar and Richards on drums. What they’ve built in a short time is hard to ignore. The singles alone have already racked up over 2 million streams, and it’s easy to hear why.

Liminal taps into a sound that will feel familiar to fans of Bad Omens, Earshot, Deftones, Linkin Park, Falling In Reverse, The Veer Union, and Breaking Benjamin, but it doesn’t feel derivative. It feels focused. Heavy where it needs to be, atmospheric when it counts, and driven by a clear sense of identity. Across the album, the duo pushes dynamics, balancing aggression with space in a way that keeps things moving without ever feeling cluttered.

For a two-piece, the scope here is impressive. There’s weight, there’s precision, and most importantly, there’s intent. Let’s dig in:

“Headlocked” kicks off Liminal exactly how it should, with a loud, ferocious bang that doesn’t ask for your attention; it takes it. The guitars are locked in and razor-sharp, the drums hit with real authority, and the whole thing lands with a weight that feels intentional, not just loud for its own sake. When the verse settles in, there’s a confidence there that makes it clear this isn’t some passing moment. The band sounds focused, fully formed, and built for longevity. They’re not here for a quick run; they’re here to stick around, pun intended.

The second track, “I Am,” is a full-on assault in the best way. It doesn’t ease in; it rips straight through the atmosphere with searing vocals and guitar work that feels like it could level a wall. For a two-piece, the amount of sound they generate is kind of ridiculous. It’s dense, aggressive, and somehow still controlled, never collapsing into noise.

There’s a clear thread of early 2000s alt metal running through it, with shades of that brooding weight you’d hear in bands like Lostprophets, Seether, and Chevelle. But it doesn’t feel like an imitation. It feels like a modern take on that era, sharpened and pushed harder. What stands out most is how locked in the two of them are. Every hit, every riff, every vocal moment lands with purpose, making “I Am” one of those tracks that deserves repeat plays.

“Forget” really puts the duo’s musical chops on full display, especially in the drums. The patterns are intricate without feeling overworked, constantly shifting just enough to keep you locked in. They don’t just sit in the background either; they drive the track, locking in tightly with the guitars and vocals in a way that feels intentional and sharp.

There’s also a subtle edge to it that calls to mind bands like Bloodywood, not in a copycat way, but in that same push to break out of the usual mold. It adds another layer to the song and reinforces that this band isn’t interested in playing it safe. They’re carving out their own lane, and tracks like “Forget” make that pretty clear.

Coming in as the fourth track on Liminal, “Come Alive” is a blistering three-minute-and-thirty-second surge that leaves you wondering why this band isn’t already opening for the likes of Falling In Reverse or Shinedown. Honestly, it feels inevitable. The energy is immediate and relentless, but it’s controlled in a way that shows real intent, not just noise for the sake of it.

Andrew Southworth’s vocals are the centerpiece here, and he absolutely goes for it. His range is on full display, moving effortlessly from low, gritty tones to soaring highs, with screams that hit hard enough to jolt anyone paying attention. It’s the kind of performance that demands a bigger stage, and tracks like this make it pretty clear they’re on their way there.

“Fear” picks up in a similar key and tone as the previous track, and while it still hits with plenty of weight, it doesn’t offer much in terms of contrast or progression. The energy is there, but it leans a bit too close to what came before, feeling more like an extension than a standout moment. It works, but it plays things safe where a sharper shift might have pushed the album forward.

The sixth track, “Omen,” is a standout moment for Eric Richards behind the kit. He’s been locked in all albums, but this is where it really clicks. The drumming feels sharp, deliberate, and completely in control, driving the track instead of just supporting it. Pair that with Andrew Southworth’s gnarly, full-force screams, and the two hit like a one-two punch. It’s tight, aggressive, and easily one of the most dialed-in moments on the record.

“Claustrophobic” and “Hear My Voice” sit back-to-back in the tracklist and somehow make perfect sense together. They hit from completely different angles, but that contrast works in the album’s favor. “Claustrophobic” is one of the band’s most-played tracks online, and it’s easy to hear why. It rips. Urgent, aggressive, and built to stick. Then “Hear My Voice” pulls things in the opposite direction, more somber, more reflective, giving the record a moment to breathe without losing its grip. Two very different tracks, both landing exactly where they should.

“Down” opens at a near whisper, easing in with a soft, almost pitter-patter rhythm that feels like a gentle rainfall. It pulls you into a calm before you even realize what’s coming. Then, without warning, it flips. The track surges forward with force, like that quiet rain turning into a full-on downpour. Southworth and Richards both go all in here, pushing the intensity without losing control. It’s dynamic, heavy, and built for a bigger stage. That chorus especially feels destined for an arena, the kind of moment that’s going to hit even harder live.

“Cold” stands out as one of the strongest moments on the album. It feels bigger and more expansive, revealing a different side of the band’s songwriting. There’s a sense of restraint and intention here that lets the emotion breathe. Lines like “I don’t want you coming with me, I just want you to be free. I don’t want another of me” cut straight through, giving a clear window into Southworth’s headspace when he wrote it.

It’s also incredibly catchy without sacrificing weight, the kind of track that sticks after one listen and keeps pulling you back. This is the one we’ll have on repeat for a while.

The second-to-last track, “We Are,” pulls things back at first, but it doesn’t stay there for long. It still hits hard and has all the elements that make the band work, but it leans a bit too heavily on ideas we’ve already heard earlier in the record. Because of that, it starts to feel a little repetitive and doesn’t quite stand out the way it could this late in the album.

Closing out the album, “Possibility” lands as a thunderous ending to a record that’s been tightly written from start to finish. It’s loud, unapologetic, and feels like Every Waking Moment emptying the tank for one last push. The track runs a bit longer than the rest, but it earns it, giving the listener a full payoff rather than cutting things short.

What really stands out here is the guitar work. They step into the spotlight in a way they haven’t earlier on the album, adding a sharper, almost thrashy edge that gives the closer a different kind of bite. It feels fresh, especially this late in the tracklist.

And that final stretch? Absolutely chaotic in the best way. If this doesn’t trigger a full-on pit, nothing will.

In the end, Liminal feels like a statement more than just a debut-length release. It’s a record that proves Every Waking Moment isn’t just experimenting or finding their footing; they already sound locked in and ready to take the next step. There are moments where the album leans a little too comfortably into its own patterns, but even then, the execution is strong enough to carry it through.

What stands out most is the intent behind everything. The dynamics, the songwriting, the performances, it all feels deliberate. For a two-piece, the level of control and sheer volume of sound they’re able to produce is impressive, and it never feels like something is missing. If anything, it feels focused.

Liminal positions Every Waking Moment as a band that’s not just building momentum, but one that’s already knocking on the door of bigger stages. And if the final stretch of this record is any indication, they’re more than ready for what comes next.