INF:ALBUM – Infernal
If “mediocrity in motion” were an Olympic sport, Infernal’s INF:ALBUM would take home the gold. The Danish duo, known for their club-ready hits, delivers an album so unremarkable that listening to it feels less like a night out and more like being stuck in a loop of elevator music at a rave—repetitive, bland, and utterly forgettable.
Marketed as a fresh dance album for their fans, INF:ALBUM tries to bring the party but ends up feeling like it crashed one from 2010. It’s a collection of tracks that seem to aspire for infectious energy but settle for the kind of background noise that plays at a mid-tier shoe store. Imagine a neon sign flickering half-heartedly in a deserted club; that’s the vibe here.
The production isn’t bad—technically. In fact, if INF:ALBUM had been released during the peak EDM craze, it might have felt contemporary. But in 2024, it’s a relic. The synths are dated, the beats are recycled, and the whole thing is wrapped in a sheen of overly polished sterility. To make matters worse, the songs blur into each other, creating a monotony that’s less cohesive artistry and more a reminder that some things should be left in the past, like shutter shades and Myspace profiles.
The lyrics are as generic as the beats. Whatever is being said is hard to discern, and what does come through isn’t worth the effort to decode. There’s no profound message, no clever wordplay—just a vapid attempt to fit into a genre that often thrives on clichés but still somehow manages to leave an impression. Here? Not so much.
If we’re forced to pick a highlight, it’s Make ‘Em All Gag—though not without caveats. The track has noticeably more energy than the rest, almost as if the duo woke up halfway through recording. That said, the name alone is enough to make your skin crawl. It’s meant to be provocative, but it feels seedy and off-putting, like a neon-lit afterthought in an already dim album.
If cohesion is a metric, INF:ALBUM scores high—but for all the wrong reasons. The tracks blend so seamlessly into one another that distinguishing them is a challenge. It’s like taking a monotonous, soul-sapping commute rather than an exciting musical journey. This isn’t an album that builds or evolves; it’s one long plateau of forgettable beats.
The album doesn’t inspire, excite, or evoke any real emotion. Listening to it feels like being trapped in a party you didn’t want to attend, surrounded by people still chasing their teenage dreams of becoming DJs. It’s less nostalgic and more a reminder of why you don’t go clubbing anymore.
This one’s for the eternal clubbers—the 30-somethings who refuse to let go of their teenage party phase. It’s for those who still think EDM is the pinnacle of music and treat “DJ” as a life goal. But even for them, this might be a hard sell. Recommending INF:ALBUM feels almost cruel because honestly, I can’t think of anyone who’d genuinely enjoy it.
In the end, INF:ALBUM is a disappointing effort from Infernal, stuck in the past and lacking the spark that might have made it shine. It’s not offensively bad; it’s just aggressively mediocre. Skip it, and your ears—and time—will thank you.
