Alright, buckle up. Нэнси’s Черный Кадиллак is a wild ride through Ukrainian pop with Schlager vibes so thick you can practically smell the hairspray and cheap cologne. This ain’t your grandma’s playlist unless your grandma likes to belt out tunes about cigarettes, heartbreak, and questionable life choices at karaoke night.
First off, the track Дым Сигарет С Ментолом smacks you in the face right outta the gate. The title alone—“Menthol Cigarette Smoke”—is gritty as hell, setting the mood for what feels like a boozy confession under neon lights. It’s catchy as f but also weirdly haunting, like that one ex you can’t quit thinking about even though they were bad news. Nancy’s voice here has this raw edge, almost like she doesn’t give a damn anymore, but somehow it works. You’ll catch yourself humming it while wondering why you’re still stuck on someone who ghosted you six months ago.
Then there’s Сошёл С Ума (translation: “Went Crazy”), which hits hard because, well, we’ve all been there. The beat slaps harder than your landlord knocking on your door, and the lyrics are straight-up chaotic energy. It’s not just pop fluff; it’s got teeth. Like, imagine dancing around your room throwing clothes everywhere because life feels too messy to handle. That’s this song. Every time I hear it, I wanna grab my jacket, light up a cig (menthol, obviously), and storm out into the night like some tragic hero from an ‘80s movie.
The rest of the album keeps things rolling with tracks like Калина Красная, dripping with folk-inspired drama, and Ночной Коралл, which sounds like something you’d hear in a dive bar where everyone knows each other’s secrets. But honestly? Those two tracks above steal the show. They stick with you long after the music stops, burrowing into your brain like an earworm with claws.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Черный Кадиллак feels less like hearing an album and more like eavesdropping on someone’s chaotic love life. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe Nancy wants us to feel uncomfortable, nostalgic, or even a little lost. Whatever it is, it works. Just don’t blame me if you end up crying in your car over someone you shouldn’t miss anymore.
Final thought? If albums could talk, this one would probably tell you to stop being such a wuss and live a little—even if it kills you.
