Rock has always been about breaking boundaries, but what happens when those boundaries begin to serve a new aesthetic? The question of genre purity in rock lost its relevance somewhere between the emergence of Electric Light Orchestra and yet another reincarnation of Queens of the Stone Age. All the more interesting, then, to observe those who attempt to find the golden mean between the raw energy of garage rock and the academic precision of symphonic arrangements. Danish duo Vinyl Floor on their second album Balancing Act offers an experiment—a blend of sixties vintage aesthetics with a contemporary understanding that rock can sound broader than commonly assumed.

Following their debut Funhouse Mirror, where Daniel Pedersen and Thomas Charlie Pedersen mapped out their territory, Balancing Act deepens the formula they’ve found. The cover artwork by artist Kristina Jellstam sets the tone: the visual language here gravitates toward retro but avoids direct imitation. The album’s thirteen tracks unfold as a sequential exploration of how far one can go in softening rock aggression before the music loses its backbone.

The key role here belongs to instrumentation. Double bassist Bebe Risenfors, string players Christian Ellegaard and Daniel Hecht bring to the sound that very academic texture which transforms straightforward garage rock into a multilayered statement. The opening ALL THIS AND MORE immediately demonstrates this approach: male vocals surrounded by string ripples and jazz harmonies, creating the sensation of a studio session somewhere in Manhattan during the heyday of AM radio. Initially it might seem that the band wants to recreate the sixties literally, but that wouldn’t be quite the right assertion—rather, the duo extracts the essence of that era when studio experiments were the norm and the boundaries between genres hadn’t yet solidified.

I’M ON THE UPSIDE adds dynamics—there’s more drive and major-key energy here. The track references the sixties but avoids literal retro mannerism, instead focusing on a live, almost improvisational delivery. THE HELPING HAND introduces an element of noir: the keyboards create a tense backdrop against which the vocals sound unexpectedly optimistic. This duality—dark instrumentation against bright melodics—becomes one of the album’s leitmotifs.

LAND OF THE DESERT slows the tempo, immersing the listener in a measured groove with expressive double bass parts. Here Vinyl Floor demonstrate their ability to work with space and the air between notes, proving that rock’s power doesn’t necessarily lie in speed or volume. BACK OF MY HAND—an instrumental blues number, pure nostalgia for the era. The decision to make the track entirely instrumental is a bold move for an album where vocals play a central role in most songs.

The ballad ADELAIDE is built around keyboards and gradually gains intensity, culminating in a powerful bass finale. The track develops from an intimate lyrical statement to a full-fledged rock statement, demonstrating how Vinyl Floor can manage dynamics within a single song. The appearance of electronics at the climactic moment doesn’t destroy the organic quality of the sound but rather amplifies the emotional impact.

JACARANDA BLOSSOMS continues the line of emotional openness that ADELAIDE established. Here the duo allows themselves vulnerability while avoiding sentimentality—a fine line that’s easy to cross when working with ballad material. The string arrangements don’t serve as mere decoration; they structure the track’s narrative, creating an additional emotional layer.

The title track BALANCING ACT closes the album on a mystical note: tense anticipation, building instrumentation, and a sudden cutoff, leaving the listener in a suspended state. This finale works as a statement about the very nature of the project—balance requires constant tension, and any attempt to fix it leads to collapse. Vinyl Floor leave the question open, refusing triumphant closure in favor of an ellipsis.

After listening to Balancing Act, I had a slight feeling that sometimes the album feels too comfortable in its vintage aesthetic. The safety of retro sound occasionally negates the potential sharpness of the statement. One wants more risk, more willingness to step beyond the cozy zone of the sixties. At times there’s a sense that Daniel Pedersen and Thomas Charlie Pedersen are too respectful toward their sources of inspiration, not allowing themselves to deconstruct or radically reimagine them. The album gives the impression of a carefully planned journey through familiar territory, where all the turns are predictable and the surprises are measured. But it’s precisely this conscious moderation—the refusal of radicalism in favor of calibrated balance—that constitutes the essence of the Vinyl Floor project.

But for listeners tired of the aggressive straightforwardness of contemporary rock and seeking something more reflective, this release offers a valuable alternative. The work with Bebe Risenfors, Christian Ellegaard, and Daniel Hecht adds textural richness to the album that contemporary rock recordings often lack. Vinyl Floor know what they’re doing, and they do it professionally—what remains is only the desire to see how far they’re willing to go next time, when the balance shifts toward risk.

Balancing Act is out February 27.

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