ALBUM REVIEW: i think i want to go home now. – The XCERTS

Discover how The XCERTS' latest album blends upbeat rock sounds with vulnerable, heartfelt lyrics, creating a compelling and emotionally charged listening experience.

The UK rock band, THE XCERTS, have returned with their newest record i think i want to go home now. Formed in Aberdeen and now based in Brighton, this trio has been a consistent force since 2001. After experimenting with more polished pop sounds on their previous records, they decided to revisit their early raw sound. Interestingly, the album's title began as a joke but took on a more serious tone during the writing process. Simply put, the band chose to return to basics, writing songs together alone in a room after enduring two years of difficult news, including familial loss and illness.

The outcome is an album that feels open and vulnerable, while also serving as a love letter to various styles and genres within the rock umbrella. The mood is set with the intro title track, which lasts less than a minute and features instrumental warmups, vocalizations, and background conversations about something sad, or at least, someone or something described as sad. This is then contrasted with a sudden tempo change on the next track, do it to myself, where listeners are greeted with fast, upbeat sounds as each band member joins in, creating something energetic and fun. The opening notes even draw some comparison to THE STEREOPHONICS' Dakota.

A record that walks in smiling, then admits it’s not okay

This album doesn’t kick the door down. It sort of… knocks, steps inside, and immediately tries to act normal. i think i want to go home now sounds like three people forcing themselves to keep moving while their brains are elsewhere—which is exactly why it works as often as it does.

Back to basics, and you can hear the room around them

Here’s what’s obvious: THE XCERTS aren’t chasing the glossy, “radio-friendly” finish this time. The tone is more early, raw, and close-up, like the band deliberately put the microphones where they could catch the messy human stuff. It feels like a decision made after the kind of life stretch that drains you—loss, illness, the whole “two years of difficult news” deal—where you stop trying to impress anyone and just try to say something true.

And yeah, I know that “go home” title reads like a throwaway line at first. I actually took it as a joke, too—like a meme-worthy shrug. But the longer the album runs, the more that title starts to feel like the only honest sentence left in the room.

If you want the thesis: they went back to writing together, alone in a room, and the album keeps that claustrophobic warmth. That’s arguable, sure—but I’d bet money this record would sound totally different if it were built by swapping files over email.

The intro track sets the trap in under a minute

The opening/title track “i think i want to go home now” barely lasts a minute, and that’s the point. It plays like a soundcheck that accidentally got left on the final tracklist: instrumental warming-up, little vocal noises, and background conversation circling something sad. Nobody says “this is grief,” but it hangs there anyway.

The move is kind of sneaky. By the time you realize you’re listening in on something private, it’s already over—and then they shove you into motion.

That’s not just sequencing; that’s intent. They’re telling you, right away: this is going to sound fun sometimes, but don’t trust it.

“do it to myself” snaps the album into bright, fast color

The jump into “do it to myself” is sharp—sudden tempo change, full band piling in, fast and upbeat like they’re trying to outrun the intro’s vibe. It’s the first moment where the record flashes its teeth: energetic, clean enough to punch, but not polished into plastic.

The opening notes even flirt with that big, familiar stadium-rock lift—there’s a whiff of Stereophonics’ “Dakota” in the way it revs up. A reasonable listener could say that comparison is a stretch. I don’t think it is. It’s not a copy; it’s that same “engine starting” feeling—built for forward momentum.

And honestly, at this point in the album, I kept waiting for the sadness to fully take over. It doesn’t. Not yet.

The album’s trick: happy sounds, sad lyrics (and it’s not that simple)

If you’re desperate to reduce the whole experience to a bumper sticker, it’s “happy sounds, sad lyrics.” But that barely captures the little contradictions that make it feel human.

Because the “happy” isn’t pure joy. It’s more like adrenaline. The kind you get when you’re keeping it together in public.

On first listen, I mainly felt the bounce—the “okay, this is going to be the fun one” reaction. On second listen, I started catching how often the energy feels like a mask that’s slipping.

Here’s where that shows up:

• “bury you” comes off like a fun rock ’n’ roll number, the kind of track that wants to be played with your shoulders loose and your mouth full of chorus. And that’s exactly why it’s a little unsettling—because the title and the vibe don’t fully match. That mismatch feels deliberate, like they’re daring you to sing along to something you probably shouldn’t.
• “breathe in what was” leans into ’80s pop sounds to dress up what reads as a sweet love song on the surface. But the production choice matters: retro shine can be a comfort blanket, and this track uses it that way. A cynic might say it’s nostalgia bait. I think it’s more like the band reaching for an emotional language that’s simpler than whatever they’re actually feeling.
• “pretty ugly” isn’t “happy,” exactly, but it’s energetic and punk-influenced, and it’s easy to picture it turning into an instant live favorite. The hook doesn’t politely ask for attention—it takes it.

If there’s a flaw in this “happy/sad” contrast, it’s that the album occasionally leans on the trick a little too hard—like, yes, I get it, you can smile while bleeding. One or two moments flirt with feeling like a formula. Not enough to ruin it, but enough that I noticed.

When the album slows down, it stops performing and starts talking

After the rush, the record starts placing weight on your chest—on purpose. The “bangers” are fun, but the more serious cuts are where the album feels like it’s actually risking something.

• “rinse repeat” is a power ballad that swells as it goes, like it’s physically expanding. It’s the kind of track that makes you want to stand still and let it hit, and yes, it absolutely has that “lighters up” emotional architecture. Someone could argue that’s corny. I’d argue it’s earned—because the build doesn’t feel like theater, it feels like someone forcing air back into their lungs.
• “sinking feeling” brings in grunge-guitar influence, then flips into an anthemic chorus that refuses to stay down. That contrast is the song’s whole point: the riff says “spiral,” the chorus says “fine, but not today.” If you’ve ever been functional while falling apart, this track gets it.
• “dream you in” is where they get weird—at least for a moment. The opening uses distorted white noise that sounds reversed, and I’m not going to pretend I know exactly how they made it. What I do know is what it feels like: like the audio is being rewound through a broken tape deck. It edges into that analog-horror vibe, the sense that something normal is being played back wrong. Then the track settles into more of a sway, but that opening stain never fully leaves.

That’s a big claim, I know—“stain,” “horror,” whatever. But if you didn’t feel at least slightly unsettled by that intro, I don’t think you were listening on headphones.

The closer “in your eyes” ties the whole thing shut with one line

The album ends with “in your eyes,” and it’s a smart closer because it starts acoustic—quiet, grounded—then switches into a fast rock track like it’s making one last run for it.

And then, at the end, the record pulls the same move as the intro: background conversation slides in, except this time the final words you hear are: “I love you.”

It’s not a twist. It’s a loop closing. The album opens with something sad hovering in the air; it ends by saying the thing that people say when they’re trying to keep a world from falling apart.

If you think that’s manipulative, fair. I’m not 100% sure it isn’t. But I didn’t roll my eyes. I actually felt my shoulders drop a little, which is usually how I know something landed.

Album art and release details (because context matters)

The cover doesn’t need to scream for attention—this whole era feels like the band intentionally stepping away from “look at us” presentation and letting the songs do the heavy lifting.

i think i want to go home now. is out now via FLG Records.

Where I land: it’s not just a comeback, it’s a retreat that turns into a statement

I walked in expecting a straight “back to raw rock” move—like a band hitting reset because that’s what fans want. But this doesn’t feel like fan service. It feels like a controlled retreat: fewer distractions, tighter writing-room energy, and a willingness to let vulnerability show through the upbeat paint.

If I had to put a number on how strongly it hits, my gut lands around a 9/10 experience-wise—not because every moment is perfect, but because the album knows what it’s trying to say and doesn’t flinch.

The album’s real achievement is that it lets you move your body while your brain is still processing something heavy. It’s the sound of coping mechanisms learning how to sing.

Our verdict: People who like rock that sounds bright but reads bruised will actually love this—especially if you enjoy big choruses that don’t pretend everything’s fine. If you need your sadness served quietly with minimal hooks, this album will annoy you the way a friend’s forced optimism annoys you: charming for two minutes, then weirdly intense.

FAQ

• What is the core vibe of this The Xcerts album?
  It’s upbeat, guitar-forward rock that keeps letting grief and vulnerability leak through the seams.
• Is i think i want to go home now more raw or more pop-leaning?
  More raw in feel and setup, even when it borrows glossy ’80s pop textures on specific tracks like “breathe in what was.”
• Which track feels most built for a live crowd?
  “pretty ugly” has that instant shout-along energy that practically begs for a sweaty room.
• What’s the most emotionally direct moment?
  The end of “in your eyes,” when the background conversation closes with “I love you,” hits like the album finally saying the quiet part out loud.
• Does the album ever overdo its “happy sounds, sad lyrics” contrast?
  A little—once in a while you can feel the mechanism behind the magic—but the stronger songs still make the tension feel lived-in, not gimmicky.

If this record planted an image in your head, you might as well put it on a wall—album art deserves that kind of permanence. You can shop your favorite album cover poster at our store: https://www.architeg-prints.com/