Zunneschien by Krödde: A Pop Gem That Punches You in the Feels (2014)
Alright, let’s get this straight—Krödde’s Zunneschien isn’t just another pop album from the Netherlands. Released back in 2014 under On Our Own Recordings, it slaps harder than you’d expect from a band that probably spent more time arguing about tambourine patterns than promoting themselves. Produced and mixed by Stephen Huizen (who also handles drums like he’s got something to prove), this record feels raw, unfiltered, and kinda pissed off in all the right ways.
First off, can we talk about “Zonneschijn”? This track hits like a punch to the gut but leaves you smiling through the pain. Rients Faber’s vocals are front and center here, dripping with emotion, while Bart Corporaal lays down some piano chords that sound like they’re trying to break free of their own rhythm. The whole thing builds up slowly, teasing you before exploding into this massive wall of sound where Jorgen Middel’s electric guitar cuts through like a knife. It’s messy, chaotic, and absolutely unforgettable. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded why people still bother making music instead of just streaming playlists forever.
Then there’s the title track, “Zunneschien.” Yeah, yeah, I know—it sounds like someone misspelled "zonneschijn," but stick with me here. This one’s got attitude for days. Arjan Schepenaar’s bassline grooves so hard it could start a mosh pit at a yoga class. And Bart Corporaal? Dude doesn’t stop—he’s on backing vocals AND tambourine, which makes me wonder if he ever sleeps or just lives in the studio. The layered harmonies give the song an almost anthemic quality, like it’s daring you to turn it up louder and piss off your neighbors. Spoiler alert: you will.
Now, let’s not forget Stephen Huizen. Dude recorded, mixed, AND produced this beast. He might as well have built the damn speakers too because every element feels intentional yet wild, like he’s saying, “Screw perfection—I want energy!”
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Zunneschien feels like eavesdropping on a conversation you weren’t invited to. It’s personal, intimate, and occasionally uncomfortable—but isn’t that what great art’s supposed to do? Makes you feel things you didn’t ask for?
So yeah, Krödde may not be household names outside the Netherlands, but screw fame. This album doesn’t need it. It’s the kind of project that reminds you real music comes from sweaty rehearsal spaces, late-night arguments, and stubborn determination—not algorithms or TikTok trends.
Oh, and one last thing: whoever decided to put Bart Corporaal on three instruments deserves a medal. Or therapy. Probably both.
