Those Made Broken – A Door You Can Never Close
Those Made Broken – A Door You Can Never Close
Self Release
Release date: 01/09/26
Review by: Jon Deaux
7/10
Listening to A Door You Can Never Close is like being told by the bloke who lives next door why he thinks pigeons have a job in the Government after having three pints. You know it’s piffle but you’re still there listening
Another year, yet another generation of kids in their twenties telling us that rock is dead, and only they know where the resuscitator is. Same outfits. Same budget on the tattoos. Same photos taken in derelict warehouses where everyone looks like they fought with the sun. Seems to be the standard dress code nowadays. Glasgow’s Those Made Broken aren’t spared this first impression, but then they go and do something a lot more useful than preach the resurrection of rock. They actually play it.
It doesn’t need a slow cinematic buildup. No ominous intro that makes you feel like someone is dragging a chain down a cave. It’s only forty seconds in, and the album bursts into your living room with the manners of a police raid. I spilt my cup of tea all over the couch and couldn’t take my headphones out because I was not prepared to hear it like that.
Murray has got a good handle on the throttle. That’s rarer than it needs to be. Modern rock singers tend to confuse volume with character and spend entire albums trying to strip the wallpaper with their voice. After half an hour you stop distinguishing between them. Murray does not fall into the trap and can tear strips off a chorus without flattening everything else.
‘Simpleman’ gets into a nice groovy mood that is very much inspired by Karnivool, but not close enough to make you feel like it’s just cosplay. It’s one of the rare instances when the band takes its foot off the throttle and tries something different.
By the time of ‘Ecuador’ we’ve moved into a phase where introductions are officially banned. The songs simply collide rather than drift into one another. Hutchison sounds like he’s enjoying that approach, filling everything up without turning the song into an audition tape. It’s like modern rock is obsessed with drummers turning every song into an endurance race. Here it’s the groove that comes before anything else.
You can hear the record collection. Alice In Chains harmonies. Deftones atmosphere. Karnivool’s rhythmic weight. Fine. Nobody is trying to invent rock music from scratch these days. Led Zeppelin stole from blues. Oasis stole from The Beatles, and Greta Van Fleet rented an entire moving company. The question is whether you borrow ideas or copy homework. These guys fall into the former category, and that’s why the songs live on after the references wear off.
The production is worthy of compliments without asking for them. The work of Hawkhead and Battery Studios gives weight to everything. It’s not just heavy sounding; everything sounds lived in. Robertson’s bass finally stops disappearing quietly behind six guitar tracks, while Hutchison recalls the lesson that too many drummers forgot about years ago – movement beats approval from other drummers.
‘Echo Chamber’ is the strongest vocal performance on the album alongside one of its best hooks. It’s an angry song, but it’s not a lecture. Not an easy feat to accomplish. Most songs addressing the theme of social media either sound like Facebook comments with some distortion pedal added or a TED Talk recorded through Marshall amps. This one keeps its fists clenched until it has something to say.
‘These City Walls’ addresses the issue of artificial intelligence but manages to stay clear of the usual clichés of apocalyptic scenarios. Sure, it’s concerned about killer robots, but what really interests it is the idea of convenience replacing thought. The riff comes in with all the force it deserves, dragging the lyrics behind it like they’re trying to catch up.
‘Monsters’ comes in with muddy boots on. ‘Obsession’ lingers too long, but ‘Little Keeper of Light’ drops the armor entirely. Many bands seem to think that acoustic guitars equal emotional depth. This isn’t the case with Those Made Broken. That one really feels earned rather than programmed in.
‘Have Everything’ allows the energy to drop for a bit, but ‘Rest’ finishes the album in the midst of broken furniture and ringing ears. There’s no neat conclusion waiting to be made. It just burns itself out.
The sequencing turns out to be more important than it seems at first listen. Albums are almost extinct and have been replaced with playlists assembled by algorithms that consider emotional pacing, putting two songs in the same key. This album still acts like an album. The peaks are followed by the quiet moments, which give you the time to reset your ears.
Nothing new in the history of heavy music is being written here. And there’s no need to. The songs are memorable, the riffs are catchy, and the choruses linger in your head for hours after you turn the stereo off. That’s a much better aim than to become the next savior of rock.
By the time I’d finished listening to A Door You Can Never Close, the most generous thing that I can say about it is that it feels like four musicians writing songs in the studio, not four marketing specialists trying to create a brand. No cinematic background. No manifesto. No promises to rescue an entire genre.
Just a loud album with enough confidence in it to let the music do all the talking. Sometimes that’s the bravest thing to do left.
TRACKLISTING:
01. Almost Human
02. Simpleman
03. Ecuador
04. Echo Chamber
05. Obsession
06. Monsters
07. These City Walls
08. Little Keeper of Light
09. Have Everything
10. Rest
LINKS:
Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Jon Deaux and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.