HOOMAN AFTER ALL Review: SiM’s Chaos Machine That Somehow Dances

HOOMAN AFTER ALL turns SiM into a genre blender with a loose lid—loud, nostalgic, and oddly precise. Here’s what HOOMAN AFTER ALL is really doing.

A record that refuses to sit down

Some albums try to impress you with polish. HOOMAN AFTER ALL tries to impress you by sprinting through three walls like the Kool-Aid Man and then asking why you’re standing still.

SiM basically dares you to categorize them. The sound keeps swerving—rock, electronicore, punk, pop, folk-metal-ish colors, ska—and the point isn’t “variety,” it’s whiplash as a feature. The album even feels non-linear in its DNA: it keeps tugging at late-’90s and early-2000s instincts while pretending it’s brand new. That push-pull is the whole mood here: fresh energy with a weird nostalgic aftertaste.

And yeah, I felt that “wait, I’ve been here before” feeling—but not in a lazy way. More like SiM rebuilt old impulses with newer tools and then refused to label the result.

The opener sets the terms: you will not be allowed to stand still

If you want a clean mission statement, the opening track “FiVE TiMES DEAD (by my wallet)” is it.

It starts with feedback—like the album is clearing its throat—then immediately boots into a loud electronicore breakdown with punk edges. The vocals go shouty and anthemic, and the whole thing lands with that “crowd-control” confidence: hands up, feet moving, don’t overthink it.

My first impression was basically, okay, this is going to be a messy party record. On second listen, I changed my mind: it’s not messy, it’s deliberately overstuffed, like SiM wants the seams showing because the seams are part of the aesthetic. The track doesn’t glide; it jolts, and that jolt becomes the hook.

I kept thinking about bands that build rock songs and then yank them sideways into pop melody or theatrical moments—Set It Off comes to mind as a structural cousin. Not because SiM sounds like a clone, but because the composition mindset is similar: start with rock, then treat genre like a hallway you can sprint through.

Arguable take: the “incredible” part isn’t the heaviness—it’s the timing. The breakdown hits like it’s been rehearsed for maximum physical reaction, not maximum musical purity.

Anime logic, game logic: SiM writes in “scene energy”

Once the opener tells you the rules, the album starts behaving like it’s scoring things—even when it isn’t.

“FREEZE ME UP” being an official theme for the upcoming anime Black Torch makes perfect sense the second you hear it. It’s fast and dramatic in a way that instantly paints motion: cuts, impacts, a character landing in-frame with their coat flapping like physics is optional. SiM isn’t just writing songs; they’re writing moments that want visuals.

And then there’s “HOLD MY BEER”, which isn’t officially tied to anything, but it practically begs for a neon-lit, future-dystopia context. I could easily hear it coming from the Cyberpunk 2077 universe—either as something that would sit on a soundtrack, or as a radio track you’d catch while moving through that world.

Here’s where I’m not 100% sure: I can’t tell if SiM is intentionally chasing “sync” placement vibes, or if they just naturally write music that feels like it belongs to animated chaos and open-world noise. Either way, the album keeps pushing that cinematic button.

“FREEZE ME UP” doesn’t just fit anime—it thinks in anime pacing, like the song was built around cliffhanger cuts.

The middle stretch: where the genre-hopping stops being a trick and becomes the point

After you accept that the album won’t stay put, it starts throwing specific flavors at you—almost like SiM is testing how many different “fun” versions of intensity they can pull off without snapping the thread.

“BLiNDEYES” is folk metal, hyperpop, and a pop chorus… somehow

“BLiNDEYES” is where the album gets bold in a different way. Folk metal elements show up—cultural instruments cutting through the mix—then hyperpop textures slide in like they belong there, and the whole thing gets tied together with a melodic pop chorus.

It shouldn’t work. That’s the obvious reaction. But the trick is that SiM doesn’t treat those elements like separate costumes. They blend them with enough confidence that your brain stops arguing and starts moving along with it.

The pop chorus is the glue, not the garnish—the track would fall apart without that clean melodic center.

“The Sniffling Cats Ska” is exactly what it says on the label

Then “The Sniffling Cats Ska” shows up and basically refuses to be anything other than pure fun. The title isn’t a metaphor; it’s a warning. The ska elements aren’t there to be “clever” or “retro”—they’re there to make you grin and bounce.

If you hate ska on principle, this won’t convert you. But if you can tolerate even a little bit of that offbeat pep, the track feels like SiM letting their hair down in the middle of a record that could’ve easily taken itself too seriously.

This is the album admitting it doesn’t actually want to be “dark”—it just wants to be loud and playful.

“Karen’s Son” turns a punchline into an anthem

“Karen’s Son” is anthemic punk meeting metalcore, with those big fist-pump moments baked in. It’s the kind of song that wants a crowd to shout back at it, and it keeps offering those singalong handles.

And honestly, I didn’t expect to be in a place—any place—where I’d be happily singing along to a song about a Karen. Yet here we are. SiM takes something that could’ve been a one-note joke and turns it into a real rallying-cry track.

Mild criticism, though: the concept risks aging faster than the riffs. The music hits; the title idea is the part I’m less confident will feel timeless five years from now. But in the moment, it works because the chorus energy doesn’t ask permission.

The metalcore bite is strong, but the punk singalong instinct is what actually sells the track.

So what’s HOOMAN AFTER ALL really doing?

Here’s what I think is actually happening across HOOMAN AFTER ALL: SiM is treating “genre” the way some people treat lanes on the highway—technically there, but absolutely not a moral obligation.

The record’s chaos isn’t random. It’s curated chaos. It keeps swapping textures and tempos to make sure your body never settles into one predictable groove. You’re not meant to sink into mood; you’re meant to ricochet from one stimulus to the next. That’s why it feels like “everything, everywhere all at once”—not because it’s trying to be clever, but because it’s trying to be unstoppable.

And despite all the swerving, the album keeps giving you a nostalgic pinch—late-’90s and early-’00s influence peeking through. Not as a museum piece, more like a familiar muscle memory. It feels modern and throwback-y at the same time, and that contradiction is part of the fun.

The album’s best skill isn’t heaviness or melody—it’s momentum management.

Artwork

Release note and where it lands for me

HOOMAN AFTER ALL is out now via UNFD.

If you want my blunt scoring brain to translate all this: it lands around a 9/10 experience for me—not because every idea is “perfect,” but because the record commits to its chaos and mostly sticks the landings.

A tighter, more “cohesive” version of this album would be worse. The slight overload is the entire personality.

Where to keep up with SiM

If you want to follow SiM, they’re on Facebook (look up SiMfromJapan).

This album doesn’t need extra context or backstory—if the songs don’t grab you on impact, no amount of reading will.

Conclusion

HOOMAN AFTER ALL plays like SiM looked at the idea of a “consistent sound” and decided it was a suggestion for other people. It’s loud, jumpy, and weirdly nostalgic, with tracks that feel designed to trigger physical movement—dancing, jumping, shouting back at the chorus—before your brain can file the moment away.

Our verdict: People who like genre-mash rock that behaves like an action sequence will have a great time here, especially if you enjoy anime-intro drama and “what just happened?” energy. If you want a calm, coherent mood album—or if ska and hyperpop textures make you roll your eyes on sight—you’re going to bounce off this record fast and then complain that “it’s too much,” which, yes, is kind of the point.

FAQ

• Is HOOMAN AFTER ALL actually nostalgic, or does it just reference older styles?
  It feels nostalgic because it uses late-’90s/early-’00s instincts—big anthemic vocals, genre collisions—without sounding like a straight throwback.
• What’s the best first track to test if this album is for me?
  “FiVE TiMES DEAD (by my wallet).” If that opener doesn’t make you move, the rest won’t magically calm down for you.
• Why does FREEZE ME UP fit anime so well?
  It’s fast and dramatic in a “scene-setting” way—the pacing and intensity feel built for visuals.
• Is The Sniffling Cats Ska a joke track?
  It’s playful, but not disposable. The ska element is there to be fun on purpose, not to parody itself.
• Does the album ever get too chaotic?
  If you’re someone who needs clean genre boundaries, yes. If you like controlled mayhem, it stays on the right side of overload most of the time.

If this album’s chaotic energy stuck with you, a bold album-cover poster kind of makes sense as a souvenir. You can shop prints at our store: https://www.architeg-prints.com/