Altfel by N&D: A Chaotic Pop Time Capsule That Still Slaps (Kinda)
Let’s cut to the chase—Altfel isn’t some masterpiece you’ll cry over, but damn if it doesn’t slap harder than most of what Romania was pumping out in '99. This album is messy, loud, and unapologetically Romanian, blending Europop with dashes of Euro House and Hip-House like someone threw a rave in their grandma's kitchen. Produced under United Music Production and Cat Music, this thing feels like a fever dream of late-'90s vibes. You either vibe with it or bounce off entirely.
The duo behind Altfel, Nicolae Marin and Robby G., didn’t reinvent the wheel here—they just slapped neon lights on it and made sure it spun fast enough to keep your attention. And honestly? It works more often than not. Tracks like “Numai Tu” and “Aș Bea O Bere” are burned into my brain for different reasons, and I’m still trying to figure out why.
Take “Numai Tu.” It’s cheesy as hell, yeah, but there’s something about Delia’s vocals that hit different. She sounds like she’s begging you to feel her pain while also reminding you she could crush your soul if she wanted to. The lyrics are basic—"Only you, only youuu"—but they stick because they’re so damn simple. It’s the kind of track that makes you wanna grab someone by the shoulders and scream-sing into their face at 2 AM. Is it deep? Hell no. But does it work as pure emotional chaos? Absolutely.
Then there’s “Aș Bea O Bere.” Oh man, this one hits differently now compared to back then. Back in ’99, it probably felt like a fun party anthem, all carefree and loose. Listening to it today, though, it feels like an accidental prophecy about how millennials would grow up drowning their sorrows in cheap beer. Lines like “I’d drink a beer / Life goes on” hit way too close to home when you're sitting alone on a Friday night wondering where it all went wrong. Plus, Nick’s delivery has this swagger that’s equal parts cocky and endearing. He’s not asking for permission; he’s telling you he’s gonna get lit, and you can join him or step aside.
The production across the board deserves props too. Dragos Serghi and Adrian Tănase clearly had fun mixing this mess together, layering beats and synths until everything sounded bigger than life itself. Even the mastering by Adrian Budrițan gives the whole thing a glossy finish that screams late-night TV commercial energy. And let’s not forget Vali Brăilă’s photography—it’s peak ‘90s glam, complete with wind machines and questionable fashion choices.
But here’s the kicker: listening to Altfel feels like stepping into a time machine that broke halfway through the trip. Some parts feel nostalgic and golden, while others make you cringe so hard you question your own taste. Yet, isn’t that what pop music’s supposed to do? Make you feel something, even if it’s secondhand embarrassment?
So yeah, Altfel might not be perfect, but it’s got teeth. It bites back, leaves a mark, and reminds you that sometimes being unforgettable means being a little rough around the edges. And hey, maybe that’s okay. After all, who wants perfection when you can have personality instead?
Final thought: If you ever meet someone who claims they hated every second of this album, don’t trust them. They’re lying—or dead inside.
