Wide Lying Smiles by Nick & The Sun Machine: A Journey Through Heartfelt Chaos
Let’s get one thing straight—Nick & The Sun Machine don’t do boring. Their 2014 album Wide Lying Smiles is like a patchwork quilt stitched together from every emotion you’ve ever tried to bury deep inside. It’s rock, pop, folk, world, country… hell, it’s all of them at once. And yet somehow, it works. This isn’t just an album; it’s a living, breathing storybook that feels like flipping through someone’s diary while they’re still writing in it.
The first track that hit me right in the chest was “Glass Clinic.” From the opening chords on Nick Stephenson’s acoustic guitar, I knew this wasn’t gonna be your typical indie-rock number. The song builds slow but steady, layering Michael J. Scott’s keys and Joe White’s bass until it feels like the whole thing might explode—but it never does. Instead, it holds its ground, letting Nick’s raw vocals carry the weight of the lyrics. There’s something about the line “I can see through you now” that sticks with me long after the music fades. Like maybe we’ve all been staring too hard at people (or ourselves) for too damn long.
Then there’s “Acid Rain Clouds,” which hits different entirely. If “Glass Clinic” is introspective and fragile, this one’s angry and restless. Simon Hadwin’s drumming punches through like thunder rolling over a stormy sky, while Michael J. Scott’s synth adds this eerie edge that makes you feel like you’re walking alone down some dark alleyway. But weirdly enough? It’s also kinda uplifting. Maybe because it sounds like chaos finding its rhythm. Or maybe because sometimes anger needs a soundtrack to make sense. Either way, this track refuses to let go of your brain.
What really stands out here, though, is how organic everything feels. You can tell these guys weren’t chasing perfection—they were chasing truth. Andy J. Davies’ production keeps things raw without being sloppy, and George White’s artwork perfectly matches the vibe: earthy, textured, real. Even the credits read like a family tree rather than a list of contributors. Everyone plays their part, but it’s clear this project belongs to Nick Stephenson, whose voice and words anchor the whole ship.
And honestly, isn’t that what great albums are supposed to do? They shouldn’t just entertain—they should stick around. Mess with your head. Make you want to call up old friends or drive aimlessly at midnight. Wide Lying Smiles does exactly that. By the time you hit closer “Dream Fly,” you realize you’ve been carried somewhere new—and not necessarily somewhere comfortable. But hey, who said comfort was the goal?
So yeah, give this one a spin if you’re looking for something more than background noise. Just be warned: it’ll leave marks. Marks you didn’t know you needed. Oh, and fun fact—this gem came out under Not On Label. Go figure. Sometimes the best stuff doesn’t come wrapped in shiny packaging.
