Still Hurting Me by Brian Cadd: A Quiet Gem That Sticks With You
Brian Cadd’s Still Hurting Me isn’t your typical 1985 release. It doesn’t scream for attention like some of the flashy pop albums from that era, but man, it lingers in your soul long after the needle lifts off the vinyl. This folk-heavy record, steeped in world and country vibes, feels like a warm hug on a cold day—kinda rough around the edges, but full of heart. Released under Graffiti Records in Australia, this album is Brian wearing his heart on his sleeve, producing and writing every track himself. And yeah, props to engineer Cameron Craig and mastering guru Don Bartley for keeping things raw yet polished enough to let the music shine.
Now, I gotta talk about "Writing's On The Wall." It’s one of those tracks that grabs you right away—not with fireworks or fancy tricks, but with its honesty. The lyrics are simple, almost conversational, like Brian’s sitting across from you at a dimly lit pub, sharing stories over a pint. There’s something haunting about how he sings, “You can see it coming, can’t you?” Like, who hasn’t been there? Watching something fall apart before your eyes, knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The melody sways gently, almost comforting, even as the words cut deep. Every time I hear it, I think about old friendships that faded or promises broken—not sad exactly, just... human.
Then there’s the title track, “Still Hurting Me.” Oh boy, does this one hit different. It starts soft, almost hesitant, like Brian’s trying to find the courage to say what he needs to say. By the time the chorus kicks in, though, it’s like he’s opened the floodgates. The pain in his voice feels real—you don’t fake that kind of ache. What gets me most is how relatable it is. We’ve all had moments where we thought we were over someone or something, only to realize years later that the wound never fully healed. It’s not angry or bitter; more like an acceptance tinged with sadness. And weirdly, listening to it makes me feel less alone. Like, hey, if Brian can put this out into the world, maybe I’ll survive my own baggage too.
Looking back, Still Hurting Me might not have set the charts on fire when it came out, but it didn’t need to. Albums like this aren’t made for fame—they’re made for connection. For people who listen closely, who catch the little cracks in the vocals or the way the guitar seems to sigh along with the words. Maybe that’s why it sticks with me—it reminds me that music doesn’t always have to be perfect to be beautiful.
Here’s the kicker, though: while writing this review, I kept thinking about how albums like this get lost in the shuffle. Back then, everyone was chasing the next big hit, and here’s Brian quietly dropping a masterpiece that feels more relevant today than ever. Funny how life works sometimes, huh?
