Michael Reynolds’ Untitled: A Wild Ride Through Cinematic Chaos
Alright, let’s get this straight—Michael Reynolds' Untitled isn’t your grandma’s classical album. Nope. This thing is a chaotic masterpiece that punches you in the face with its weird mix of Stage & Screen vibes and Theme-heavy drama. It’s like someone threw a bunch of old Hollywood reels into a blender, hit puree, and called it art. And honestly? I’m here for it.
First up, let’s talk about “(D) Inter Lock.” Man, this track sticks to your brain like gum on a hot sidewalk. The tension builds so fast you can practically feel sweat dripping down your neck. It’s got these sharp, stabbing strings that scream "something bad is gonna happen," but then BAM—it cuts off before anything actually does. Frustrating? Sure. Genius? Absolutely. You’re left sitting there like, “What just happened?” That’s what makes it unforgettable. It doesn’t spoon-feed you emotion; it shoves it down your throat and dares you to swallow.
Then there’s “City Romance,” which feels like the exact opposite vibe. This one’s smooth as hell, all sweeping violins and dreamy piano lines. If “(D) Inter Lock” is a knife fight in an alley, “City Romance” is sipping champagne while staring at city lights from a rooftop. It’s cheesy as all get-out, but damn if it doesn’t work. There’s something oddly comforting about how predictable it feels. Like yeah, we know where this is going, but who cares? Sometimes clichés exist for a reason.
The rest of the tracks are… well, they’re kind of all over the place. You’ve got stuff like “Sixty Second Commercial 3,” which sounds exactly like what it says—a jingle for some product nobody asked for. Then there’s “Minuet From Don Giovanni,” because apparently Mozart needed a cameo too. And don’t even get me started on “Seance,” which tries way too hard to be spooky but ends up sounding more like someone sneaking around their house at night looking for snacks.
But here’s the kicker: despite the mess, Untitled works. Maybe not as a cohesive album, sure, but as a collection of moments? Yeah, it nails that. Every track feels like stepping into a different scene from a movie you’ve never seen. Some scenes are boring, some are confusing, but others hit you right in the gut.
So what’s my final take? Honestly, I think Michael Reynolds made this album to troll us. Half of it feels accidental, like he stumbled into a studio and just started pressing buttons. But somehow, against all odds, it clicks. Not perfectly, not cleanly—but aggressively, chaotically, beautifully so.
And hey, maybe that’s the point. Life’s messy, right? Why should music be any different?
