My music taste is firmly rooted in what they call ‘Dad rock,’ which always sparks a visual of pot-bellied, middle-aged men shaking their heads and breaking their hips.

Kevin Silvester is not like the other artists I listen to, last I checked he was still alive. The artists I typically listen to are the sort of guys with sex scandals printed on yellowing paper and take cocaine as recreationally as one might down orange juice. Silvester, according to Spotify, is the best of both worlds: a pop and rock star. O2, his debut EP, is ‘an infusion of Y2K pop-rock roots with a modern twist.’ The opening track, ‘I THINK I NEED THERAPY,’ is a powerful, rock-out ballad. In a sense, it nicely sets the scene for ideas the rest of the EP addresses. It’s a fitting beginning to the more sombre ideas that prop up the energetic music.

The opening tracks are very much what I like to call “party music,” the sort that gets the crowd psyched. Unlike music by Joni Mitchell or Rose Betts who sing to you, Silvester’s is tailored for crowds to go crazy to. ‘STRANGER,’ ‘DELULU,’ ‘ORBIT’ and ‘BAD OMEN’ are songs that are not upbeat, but definitely high energy. It’s music you want to bob and scream while you’re high off whatever drug’s hip. Silvester’s pop and rock background make these songs familiar to those perpetually stuck in the world of American Dad Rock. For those struggling to make the jump to more contemporary music, this album is a good place to start. It’s old cloth refashioned into a different garment.

Despite all of the album’s rock-out, manic energy—exuded from the chaotic collage of reds and blacks on the cover—the album also knows when to take it slow.  Silvester has said in an interview with Beat Magazine that catharsis is a very important element in his music. And that much is obvious to me, a no-nothing normie. The last three songs, starting with ‘FOOL’S GOLD,’ take things a little slower, easing up on the energy and becoming more mournful. It’s more of a gentle, swaying song the likes of which would fit in an Evangelical church during Praise and Worship (a little PTSD moment for anyone who’s made it out of the trenches of Christianity).

A few themes made themselves clear upon relistening with lyrics. Silvester is kind of depressing. A few themes of unrequited love and self-loathing make themselves apparent. The lyrics, as morbid as they might be, are easily overlooked.

Concluding the album is ‘SLEEPWALKER’, which is an agony piece over a missing loved one. What would I do, I can’t live without you, et cetera. Relatable, so my friends who’ve been in relationships have told me (application forms to be my girlfriend will be included in the next edition). Another example would be the song ‘DELULU’, where Silvester sings:

            ‘When the one don’t mean anyone

            I pretend I don’t give a fuck

            When close isn’t close enough

            I burn the idea of love’

These delightful philosophies can be found throughout the album. Snippets of self-loathing, regret, anguish—all the things that fuel the boiler of the steam engine that is the artist. I think this works in favour of the album, especially with Silvester’s intention to focus the EP on catharsis—it’s a vocal experience that requires a quick release, an unburdening of the spirit. Anguish is expressed through a sequence of high energy, punchy rock tunes before sliding into a more reflective mood.

In short, no, Kevin, I don’t think you need therapy. What’ll happen to your music then?