I knew Jordan Phoenix had a new album coming, and before it even dropped — “A New Liberation & The Star Child From America“ — I already had some pretty mixed expectations. Another grand attempt to reimagine America? Been there. But, as is often the case, once you dig a little deeper, you find something truly worthwhile — the kind of sincerity that makes you forget all your sarcastic remarks.

For Jordan, creating an album is a process more similar to a psychological session than to recording music in a studio. He basically cracked himself open, spilling out everything that hurt, built up, and stifled him, mixing those feelings into a hot cocktail of punk and hard rock. There is no sense that he tried to fit into a single genre or neatly divide the tracks into hits and fillers. On the contrary, the album sounds like he simply could not stop until he said everything he needed to say.

photo by Mecca

The first part of the title, “A New Liberation”, already sounds ambitious on its own. Liberation, a fresh start, rebirth — themes we hear more often than we’d like to admit. But Phoenix does not offer easy answers or uplifting slogans. In his music, liberation is not a serene walk along a sunny beach, but a wild dash through a minefield, where a spark can either light the way or explode, scattering the shards of your illusions.

Duality runs through the entire album. That very clash of opposites, where it feels like everything might blow up at any moment — but it is exactly in that tension where something real is born. I would rather avoid tired metaphors, but it is like electricity in the air before a storm — there is fear, and yet you cannot look away.

Phoenix delivers anything but a polished product, and this is definitely no studio-label bubblegum. Everything here scrapes with rust and bleeds at the edges. The sound is a volatile mix of punk, garage rock, and hard rock, soaked in a raw DIY underground vibe. At times, it echoes early Ty Segall, then suddenly crashes into Dead Kennedys territory, before snapping back into something distinctly his own — lyrical, but still with a knife between its teeth.

The second half of the title, “The Star Child From America”, sounds even more cryptic and grandiose, but there’s more going on than meets the eye. Phoenix deliberately plays with the idea of American identity — something that has long turned into a collage of contradictions, hopes, and disappointments. Being American now means carrying a heavy load, and Jordan handles it the only way he knows how. He constantly reminds us that someone raised in America is both the bearer of a great promise of freedom and a hostage to the expectations society stacks on top of him. In his hands, the American dream mutates from a beautiful tale into a painful, honest conversation about who you have become and who you might have been.

The album features ten tracks, and damn, I actually have something to say about several of them. Not just “yeah, it’s fine,” but really — they hit. Of course, “Rebel” is the one that slams like a campaign speech, only without the lies. The guitars rip, the drums stomp concrete, and Jordan’s voice slices the air.

Then everything shifts. “Affliction” — slower, quieter, but far from gentle. This one’s about rupture, about presence through absence, about a love that could not hold on but still burns. If “Rebel” is a fist, then “Affliction” is a prolonged stare into the mirror. And right after that comes “Over You”, where melancholy turns into motion, bright vocals and piercing guitars. The contrast between the lightness of the tone and the weight of the thoughts hits just right.

photo by Mecca

“Love Cures The Lonely” is that rare moment when you want to hit replay before the track even ends. A fully hooked-up melody, the right groove, and the kind of song you know will be stuck in your head for the next twenty-four hours. This is where Jordan finally lets go. It is an anthem for anyone who has found even the faintest bit of grounding — even if that grounding came from a broken melody on an old guitar. This track fits just as easily into a rock playlist as it does on the radio or inside someone’s personal memories — and it works in all three.

“Beyond The Skies” comes close to catharsis. It starts off calm, but then builds — guitars, drama, a voice that reaches for the sky while still holding onto the earth. This is about hope. About realization. About knowing you went through all of it for a reason. There is no relief here, but there is strength. And that matters more.

“And I Wait” closes the album, but it opens something else. It sounds like the inner monologue of someone who has lived through it all. And that is exactly why it wraps up the album the way it should — not with a full stop, but with a clear tone: “to be continued.”

And while this album does not break new ground musically — we have heard these riffs and drums a hundred times before — it grabs hold with its truth and inner fire. Because behind every line and every sound stands a person unafraid of honesty, driven by a passion for music, a love for people, and a deep urge to finally figure himself out. That, more than anything, is the magic of “A New Liberation & The Star Child From America.”

If this album comes out on vinyl, I will keep it right next to Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska” and Nine Inch Nails’ “The Fragile.” It is emotionally exposed, sonically wild, and it pushes far beyond the bounds of familiar punk rock and hard groove to deliver a reminder: freedom is not a gift — it is a daily decision.

Jordan Phoenix is the voice of a generation raised in the wreckage of the American Dream, still somehow believing in its reboot. He does not look away from the face of the country that gave him both his name and his pain. “The Star Child From America” is a landmark for those who made it through the crushing weight of societal expectations and came out not with cynicism, but with a hunger for something real.

This album deserves an evening. A week. Maybe the entire month of June.
It rolls like a fireball across your nerves and leaves a mark.

This is a statement.
This is a challenge.
This is what needs to be heard right now.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub