I think many people know that feeling during an evening walk under a cloudy sky, when the wind is a bit stronger than usual and already carries a sense of change. “Change in the Weather” sounds exactly like that — like a premonition, but also like a shift that has already happened.

This is the debut album by the duo Mama Said, where Jen and Latifa — I could call them friends, or, if you prefer, a kind of family enterprise — are partners in sound, in voice, in the confidence that you can be loud, be emotional, be alive — and capture all of that on one record. And of course, Derek’s guitar, Jen’s husband, adds that very texture that makes the sound sparkle — the way gravel crackles under the wheels.

It all started with a few singles which, as is often the case in stories like this, were almost a trial run. Tracks thrown into the air to see if anyone would catch them. And many did, believe me. Now Mama Said are moving forward with confidence. “Change in the Weather” is an album without a trace of hesitation. Everything is exactly where it should be, delivered with assurance and a clear tone: this is commercial rock, but with a face, with a personality. The album draws you in not so much with originality, but with the quality of execution — with the way Jen and Latifa work with form, without trying to reinvent the wheel, but making it so that you want to ride it all over again.

What interests me most about this album is its dynamic. The tracks take their time, they do not explode instantly like so many songs in the age of TikTok intros and firecracker choruses. Everything here builds, accumulates, gives you that very feeling that rain is just about to start — but instead of hiding, you step out under the sky because you need to be soaked to the bone.

There are ten tracks on the album, but I have my favorites, and I will point them out. Of course “Change in the Weather” — the title track — it is hard not to sit up straight and feel: yes, here it comes. The track immediately brings to the forefront that blend of tender bluesy vibe and almost theatrical rock staging. And Derek’s guitar riff — holy hell, that thing kicks in like it’s been smuggled straight out of an AC/DC session.

Then, as if intentionally turning up the heat, “The Needle” bursts in. This is pure adrenaline territory. The melody winds down like a serpentine road — unrestrained, precise, and so infectiously driven that your foot starts tapping on its own. The vocals here ignite the whole track, like an orchestra coming from a single throat. You forget everything else and just surrender to the rhythm.

“Diamonds & Cigarettes” takes an unexpected turn. Suddenly, there is less guitar aggression and more air, more lightness. This is where the retro motifs begin to play: soft pop accents emerge, and the vocals from Jen and Latifa become almost flirtatious.

“My Kind Of Crazy” is the absolute triumph of the storyteller. This is the song you listen to half-asleep, lying in the grass or in a chair on the porch, thinking, “Yeah, this is my pace.” A bit of folk, a bit of country, a bit of gentle obsession — and all of it wrapped in that unmistakable vocal tone.

“Feel Good Revolution” brings the drums to the front, the guitar leading the crowd behind it, while the vocals become almost anthemic. It is the kind of song that could close out a concert. A musical manifesto of sorts.

But the main character, at least for me, is “Down To The River (The Devil’s Game)”. This is a song about mystery. About passion. A track that smolders — not with cigarette smoke, but with something internal, slow-burning. Desire, confession, intrigue — all of it is here. The music sways like a boat on water, and the vocal glides across it — no rush, no fuss. Just absolute confidence that you will listen to the very end.

And then, just when it seems like everything has already been said, “Everybody” arrives. A finale that both draws a line and sets off fireworks. The guitars become pulsing and thick. The vocal gathers everything that came before into one final burst. This is not a “bye-bye,” this is a “now remember us.”

Comparing Mama Said to the classics makes no sense — that is not what this is about. This is neither nostalgia nor a bid to be the next rock standard. Their debut album is a very honest, very energetic, very assured step from a band that knows what it is doing and knows who is listening. And to be honest, I will not pretend otherwise — Change in the Weather is, well, cult material. It begs to be played on the road, in a car, with a couple hundred kilometers ahead of you and a head full of thoughts. These songs already feel ready for the stage — they have weight and shape. A debut with direction, with an inner anchor, and with a sense of what comes next.

May 24 is the release date, but I already feel that Change in the Weather will become someone’s soundtrack of the month. It definitely is mine.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub