It’s been nearly a decade since One Man Boycott released their debut full-length Counting The Seconds — a record that earned glowing praise from Rock Sound and helped cement the South West band as one of the most exciting names in UK pop-punk. Fast forward to 2025, and frontman Joe Brewer returns with Face For Radio, a self-produced, deeply personal, and fiercely melodic album that captures what it means to fall apart and find your way back again. Recorded entirely in Brewer’s home studio in North Devon, the album is a portrait of resilience. Across twelve tracks, Face For Radio fuses the high-energy hooks of pop-punk with an honesty that feels almost confessional. The result is an album that’s as catchy as it is cathartic — loud, self-aware, and full of heart.
The record opens with “Boycott Fans Saved My Life, And Not For The First Time (Intro)”, a humble nod to the people who’ve kept Brewer going. It’s a quiet, reflective prelude that quickly gives way to “Imposter Syndrome”, a fast-paced burst of guitars and adrenaline where Brewer tackles the fear of not being enough with open honesty. “Confidence” keeps that energy rolling — it’s urgent, relatable, and sounds like an internal pep talk set to the soundtrack of an early-2000s skate video. “Self Help Pt.2” and “Nevergenetics” showcase Brewer’s sharpest songwriting to date. The former is punchy and self-aware — poking fun at self-improvement culture while admitting how hard change really is — while the latter digs deeper, confronting the weight of inherited patterns and emotional DNA. The chorus of “Nevergenetics” hits like a promise to break the cycle, carried by some of the album’s most anthemic hooks. On “Life Is A Movie”, Brewer turns storyteller, exploring infidelity and introspection through a cinematic lens. It’s a song full of visual imagery and one of the record’s standout single contenders. From there, “The Alchemist” takes a darker turn, diving into addiction and transformation with slower tempos and haunting guitar tones. It’s a sobering, beautifully written song that proves Brewer isn’t afraid to lean into vulnerability. Then comes “Empathy Is Overrated”, a cheeky and slightly ironic anthem that brings an ‘80s rock edge to the album’s pop-punk core. It’s playful, melodic, and tailor-made for a live crowd singalong. “Simulation Theory” follows with a more experimental post-punk flair, touching on anxiety and the digital haze of modern life, yet never losing the band’s trademark melodic punch.
“Too Close For Comfort” is one of those short, snappy tracks that hits hard and fast — pure energy with a wink of sarcasm. It’s classic One Man Boycott: catchy, emotionally raw, and irresistibly fun. “I’m Broken, You’re Lonely” adds a surprising layer of depth, weaving synth textures and layered harmonies into a heartbreaking reflection on codependence and emotional exhaustion. It’s one of the most sonically ambitious moments on the album and a late-album highlight. The closing track, “Optimist Prime”, ties the whole journey together. Warm, melodic, and sun-drenched, it feels like the emotional resolution to everything that came before. The title might be tongue-in-cheek, but the optimism is real — a message that hope, however fragile, is still worth holding on to. What makes Face For Radio so compelling is how personal it feels. Brewer has been open about the depression and burnout that nearly ended his creative path, but here he channels it all into something bold and defiant. His vocals carry both weariness and conviction, his songwriting blends humor with heartbreak, and his production captures that rare balance between DIY grit and professional polish. “This record is me admitting where I’ve fallen apart and choosing to come back anyway,” Brewer says — and you can hear that in every chord. It’s a record about rediscovery: of self, of purpose, and of joy in making noise again. With its blend of pop-punk energy, introspective lyricism, and emotional honesty, Face For Radio stands tall among the genre’s best modern releases. It’s a reminder that growing up doesn’t mean losing your spark — sometimes it just means learning how to start over.
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