Colorblind Album Review: Truth for Sale, and You Probably Bought It

The Colorblind album “Who Sold You This Truth ++ Was It Yours To Hold” dresses heavy rock in synth-gloss and dares you to call it shallow.

A record that smiles while it swings

Some albums kick the door in. This one walks in calmly, makes eye contact, and then rearranges your mood when you weren’t paying attention.

Who Sold You This Truth ++ Was It Yours To Hold is Colorblind’s latest full-length, and it plays like a band that’s tired of pretending heaviness is only about guitars. They’re aiming for something “brutally honest,” sure—but the real move is how often they hide the bruises under pretty lighting.

Who Colorblind are (and what they keep insisting on)

Colorblind have been at this since 2017, and you can hear the slow-build confidence of a group that’s earned its crowd the hard way: by tightening the screws live and keeping the songwriting personal enough to feel a little exposed.

They’re a four-piece out of Austin, and the vibe is very much: modern heavy rock with a soft spot for electronics and a willingness to show their “vulnerable side” without turning every chorus into a diary entry. That’s an arguable win already—plenty of bands say they’re honest; Colorblind actually build songs that sound like they’re arguing with themselves.

The actual sound: electronicore with a clean-shirt industrial streak

Here’s what it really sounds like: electronicore that keeps flirting with industrial hard rock, but refuses to fully marry either one. There’s a digital sheen on top, chunky rock foundations underneath, and vocals that hover in that high, bright zone where you either feel emotionally rescued or mildly bullied—sometimes both.

And yeah, I kept thinking about Kellin Quinn’s style in the way Travis Moseley phrases melodies and pushes that clean, urgent tone. Not as a copy, more like the same emotional font. If you’re allergic to that kind of vocal delivery, this album will test you. If you like it, the record basically has a master key to your nervous system.

“Pressure” sets the terms: pretty first, punch later

The opener, “Pressure,” starts in that airy, ethereal electronic space—like it’s trying to lull you into trusting it. Then the chorus hits and the track finally shows its engine.

What’s funny is: the chorus isn’t as brutal as the title kind of implies. On first listen I expected a more savage payoff, something teeth-first. But the energy is still there, just redirected—less “wrecking ball,” more “strobe-lit sprint.” That’s an intentional choice, and I’d argue it’s the album’s central trick: it keeps putting adrenaline into melodies instead of violence into riffs.

“Car Crash” does the obvious thing… and somehow makes it work

“Car Crash” opens slow, then leans into the concept with a literal crash before it drops into hard rock. In lesser hands, that kind of moment is corny. Here, it’s weirdly clean—because the production is smooth enough to sell the theatrics without sounding like a sound-effect gimmick.

The track’s strongest move is late: those harmonies come in slick, almost glossy, and it’s the kind of “smoother than it should be” ending that makes you realize the band cares more about emotional landing than musical flexing. A reasonable listener could call that soft. I think it’s the point.

Fifteen tracks is a lot when your palette is this specific

This is a 15-track album, and that length matters because the band’s core formula is consistent:

• electronic atmosphere or beat-led intro
• rock/metal lift in the chorus
• clean hooks that behave like pop
• a “heavier” moment used as punctuation

When it hits, it’s addictive. When it repeats, you start noticing how many songs share the same skeleton.

There’s a stretch where tracks like “Royal Blood,” “Neversleep,” “Lost In Translation,” and “Heavy Heart” line up as solid rock-meets-electronic-pop cuts… but if you shuffled them and asked me to identify each one by vibe alone, I’m not totally sure I could do it quickly. They don’t sound bad. They sound related—almost too related.

And that’s my mild gripe: the album sometimes confuses “cohesive” with “samey.” It’s like eating a big bag of your favorite candy and realizing halfway through you miss the surprise of a different flavor.

The songs that break the pattern (and why they matter)

The good news is the record absolutely has standouts—moments where Colorblind stop cruising and actually jerk the wheel.

“Let Down” is the album pretending to be polite before it snaps

“Let Down” is built like electronic pop with low-key metalcore muscles tucked underneath. You can feel the track holding back… until the end, when it suddenly gets heavy and drops in growls like it’s been waiting for permission to admit it’s angry.

That late heavy section works because it isn’t constant. It’s a reveal. And honestly, it made me rethink my earlier “this might be too polished” impression—because the band clearly knows when to dirty the sound up for impact instead of doing it out of obligation.

“Paradox” is where the lyrics stop posing and start confessing

On the surface, “Paradox” sells itself with pretty synths and harmonies—clean lines, shiny edges, the kind of beauty that could be mistaken for shallow comfort.

But the deeper pull is in the writing: it circles mental health, healing, and that specific nightmare of realizing your worst enemy has been you the whole time. It doesn’t feel like a PSA. It feels like a private argument you overheard through the wall.

If someone told me this is the album’s emotional center, I wouldn’t fight them.

“Cynical” goes small on purpose

Then there’s “Cynical,” a slow, piano-focused track that reads like a sister piece to “Paradox.” It doesn’t try to overpower you. It just sits there and lets the tension show.

This is an arguable take, but I think the album is strongest when it stops trying to impress the “heavy” crowd and leans into these stripped, inward moments. The mental struggle theme lands harder here than it does on some of the louder tracks, because the song doesn’t give you a riff to hide behind.

The production is almost too good at its job

The record’s production is clean, modern, and tuned for impact—everything in its place, everything bright enough to cut through. That’s a plus when you want the electronics to feel intentional instead of pasted on.

But it also means some of the danger gets ironed out. A few tracks feel like they’re wearing safety gear: loud enough to feel intense, polished enough to feel controlled. That might be exactly what Colorblind want—a kind of curated chaos where even the breakdown has good posture—but if you’re craving something messy and unpredictable, this album may feel like it keeps checking its reflection.

And still: when those harmonies hit, when the synths bloom behind the chorus, when the heavy part arrives late instead of instantly… it’s hard not to enjoy the ride.

So what is this album really doing?

It’s selling a particular version of “truth”: not raw, not ugly, not unfiltered—more like truth that’s been formatted into hooks you can replay without flinching. The title Who Sold You This Truth ++ Was It Yours To Hold isn’t subtle, and the music isn’t either. Colorblind are basically asking whether your pain is yours… and then scoring that question like a high-gloss thriller.

Sometimes it turns into repetition. Sometimes it turns into a genuine gut-punch.

If I’m putting a number on how well the album’s attempt lands for me overall, I end up around 7/10—mostly because the best tracks are legitimately sticky, and the weaker stretch isn’t weak so much as a little too comfortable using the same moves.

Release note (because it matters)

Who Sold You This Truth ++ Was It Yours To Hold is out now via Solid State Records.

If you want to keep up with Colorblind directly, they’re on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Colorblindtx.

Conclusion

Colorblind made a record that’s pretty on purpose, heavy on command, and emotionally sharper than its glossy finish suggests. The repetition is real—but so is the payoff when the songs decide to risk something.

Our verdict: People who like modern heavy rock with synth shine, big choruses, and emotional themes that don’t wallow will actually love this. People who want riffs that feel dangerous, or vocals that don’t live in that bright, urgent register, will get impatient and start checking track titles like they’re reading receipts.

FAQ

• What’s the core sound of this Colorblind album? Electronicore-leaning modern heavy rock: synth-forward intros, pop-ready hooks, and heavier moments used as impact points.
• Is the album very heavy the whole way through? No—and that’s intentional. It often prioritizes energy and melody over constant brutality.
• Why do some tracks feel similar? The album sticks to a consistent structure across a 15-track runtime, which can blur individual songs together in places.
• Which tracks stand out the most? “Let Down” for its late heavy turn, “Paradox” for its mental health-focused lyrics under glossy synths, and “Cynical” for its piano-led vulnerability.
• Who is this album not for? Anyone who needs rougher production, more unpredictable songwriting, or a less comparable-to-Kellin-Quinn vocal vibe.

If you’re the type who fixates on album art the way you fixate on a chorus, you can always shop a favorite album cover poster at our store—tastefully, not pushy—over at https://www.architeg-prints.com.