Rock music has a long history of reinvention, but somewhere along the way, a lot of it lost its teeth. The raw, unpolished urgency of the '60s and '70s—when bands sounded like they might combust mid-take—has largely given way to something more rigid, more algorithm-friendly. That’s why Bougainvillea, the latest from Darren Sullivan, feels like an unexpected thrill: a rock record that actually feels like a band in a room, feeding off each other, playing in the moment rather than chiseling tracks into digital perfection.
There’s a looseness to these songs that’s hard to fake. The performances sway and breathe, resisting the sterility of grid-tight recording, and that imperfection is a strength. You can almost picture the sessions happening in some garage, amps humming, tape rolling—an energy rarely captured in modern rock. But Bougainvillea isn’t just a museum piece paying tribute to classic sounds. Beneath the vintage aesthetics, there’s a strong undercurrent of ‘90s alt-rock grit, a lineage that stretches from the Stones to Pearl Jam, yet doesn’t sound beholden to either.
Sullivan’s voice carries a restless, emotive quality, and the band members each bring something distinct to the table. It takes a few spins to untangle all the influences, but that’s part of the charm—this isn’t a record designed for instant gratification. Standouts like “Why Must It Be So Cold?,” “Poe,” and “Mistaken Identity” showcase the band’s range, moving between melancholy introspection and more propulsive, freewheeling moments. If you’ve been searching for a rock album that doesn’t feel sanded down to nothing, Bougainvillea is worth your time.
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