I’ve always had a soft spot for albums that feel like sturdy novels: the deeper you turn the pages, the more immersed you become in the author’s world. Bomethius isn’t new to storytelling of this kind, but this time Jonathan Hodges (the lead orchestrator and one of the main masterminds) assembles a fresh team for his seventh studio album, Borrowed Time: drums by Jeremiah de la Peña, bass by Dan Kristan, guitar by Taylor Voss, along with a strong lineup of contributors on trumpet, pedal steel, and other intriguing instruments. Released on Chicago’s Oakley Avenue Records, Borrowed Time is not an album you can remain indifferent to. It has a complex personality and plenty to unpack.

photo by http://www.bomethius.com

Borrowed Time takes aim at overcoming what haunted its predecessor, Awful, Pompous, & Artificial. The album sounds like its creator has finally exhausted the emotions of the past—fear, anger, and all manner of internal struggles—and is ready to move forward without unnecessary posturing. This new chapter isn’t a radical departure from earlier works, but it certainly introduces shades and tones that were barely audible before. The cycle of alienation gives way to self-acceptance, turning the record into a reflection on breaking free from old chains. At the same time, there’s no sense that the protagonist has grown distant from the world; on the contrary, he seems to regard others with greater warmth and, at last, allows himself to smile.

If the previous album, Awful, Pompous, & Artificial, wavered between frustration and the urge to give up entirely, the new release reveals the opposite—a calm confidence that emerges when one leaves heavy emotions behind. There’s something almost cinematic about this: a shift in focus toward personal freedom, a reassessment of relationships, and a transition into a new state of being. It unfolds as a genuine narrative of Jonathan Hodges confronting the past and gradually building a bridge to the future. The album features 10 tracks, but I’d like to highlight a few that, in my opinion, deserve special attention—these are the ones that stood out to me the most.

Without a doubt, I Am Caesar’s (Now) stands out. The track exudes tranquility with its delicate synth accents and meditative vocals. A restrained drumbeat adds a sense of softness, almost like a lullaby. There’s nothing intrusive here—just calmness, as though Hodges is gazing at his fears with a touch of melancholy.

What Can You Do? is deeply moving with its philosophical lyrics. The high-pitched vocals and gentle basslines blend into a soundscape that dissolves the boundaries between the listener and the music. Meanwhile, Leave It Alone picks up the pace and injects a burst of energy, featuring everything from dynamic electric guitars to vibrant keys and brass.

The title track, Borrowed Time, is rendered with a delicate touch, featuring Hodges’ sister, Caroline Hodges, on vocals. Meditative, romantic, and soothing, it feels like an escape from reality. Its light folk-pop sound perfectly complements the overarching concept of the album.

photo by http://www.bomethius.com

NYC emerges as my personal favorite. Time seems to slow down here, with country-folk guitars creating an atmosphere that feels both familiar and refreshingly new. It’s the kind of song you want to keep on repeat, especially in those moments when reality demands a pause.

The final track, Won’t Be Much Longer, captivates with its duality. Prolonged vocal lines contrast with shimmering guitar tones, while the introduction of strings adds depth to the sound. This song isn’t afraid of change—its rhythms and textures evolve fluidly, creating a layered and satisfying conclusion.

Borrowed Time is the perfect companion for a slow, thoughtful evening when you crave less noise and more stillness. The songs don’t throw the listener into sharp emotional swings but instead engage in a steady dialogue, occasionally offering lyrical surges or cheerful highlights. Tuning into this album is like uncorking a wine that’s had time to mature—suddenly, you find a richness you might not have expected at first glance.

One of Borrowed Time’s defining qualities is its cohesive atmosphere: at times shimmering with lounge-like ease, at others touched by gentle flickers of jazz. It’s a calm but far from formless journey, one that allows space for both melancholy and joy. Bomethius avoids extremes yet retains the ability to surprise.

A defining feature of the album is its hypnotic, almost meditative atmosphere. Despite its philosophical underpinnings, it never feels, well, overwhelming. On the contrary, it leaves a sense of lightness behind. Not the kind of lightness that comes immediately, but the one that emerges after you’ve spoken your mind, dissected your fears piece by piece, and suddenly realized you’ve been holding onto them for far too long.

Borrowed Time radiates warmth and quiet confidence. Perhaps that’s what makes the album so significant—it doesn’t aim to dazzle or persuade. Instead, it simply offers a moment to pause, take a breath, and remind yourself: “Everything’s going to be okay.”

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