The word Liminal is the kind of word that immediately suggests atmosphere, thresholds, in-betweens, emotional states that don’t quite resolve. It also quietly sets expectations: if you’re going to call something Liminal, it probably shouldn’t sound like it was assembled entirely in a straight line. Fortunately, Every Waking Moment seems aware of this and their debut record which they have entitled Limilal leans heavily into that sense of tension between melody and aggression, polish and rawness, control and release.
Formed in 2022 by longtime collaborators Andrew Southworth and Eric Richards, the Massachusetts-based duo arrives with a sound that feels both familiar and deliberately curated. You can hear the lineage immediately: the moody atmospherics of Deftones, the emotional push-and-pull of Linkin Park, the modern sheen of Bad Omens. But rather than feeling like a checklist of influences, Liminal plays more like a band trying to map out where exactly they fit within that space and occasionally, where they don’t.
The album opens with “Headlocked,” which does exactly what an opener like this is supposed to do: establish tone, introduce tension, and give you just enough melody to keep you from bracing for impact the entire time. It’s followed by “I Am” and “Forget,” both of which lean into shorter runtimes without feeling underdeveloped. If anything, they highlight one of the album’s more interesting tendencies; songs rarely overstay their welcome. This isn’t a record interested in sprawling indulgence; it’s tighter, more controlled, occasionally to a fault.
That sense of control becomes more apparent as Liminal moves into its middle stretch. Tracks like “Come Alive” and “Fear” build on the album’s central dynamic: heavy instrumentation paired with emotionally direct vocals. Andrew Southworth’s delivery sits right in that space between vulnerability and restraint, which works well for material that’s clearly rooted in introspection but doesn’t want to sound overly theatrical about it. There’s a kind of quiet push happening here, like the songs are trying to break open but keep pulling themselves back at the last second.
“Omen” and “Claustrophobic” lean further into atmosphere, with the latter standing out for obvious reasons. It’s shorter, sharper, and arguably one of the album’s most effective tracks simply because it commits fully to its central idea. If Liminal is about inhabiting in-between spaces, “Claustrophobic” feels like the moment where that space starts to close in.
Then there’s “Hear My Voice,” which stretches things out just enough to feel like a centerpiece. It’s one of the more expansive tracks on the record, both in runtime and emotional scope, and it benefits from that extra space. The build feels more deliberate, the payoff more earned. It’s also one of the clearer examples of how the band balances accessibility with weight; never tipping too far into either.
By the time you reach the closing run, the album has settled into its identity. These tracks don’t radically shift the formula, but they don’t need to. Instead, they reinforce it. “Cold” and “We Are” in particular feel like thematic extensions of everything that came before, while “Possibility” closes the record on a note that’s appropriately unresolved. Not ambiguous in a frustrating way, but in a way that feels consistent with the album’s central idea: this isn’t about arriving somewhere, it’s about existing in the process of getting there.
But then again, that might also be the point. Liminal by Every Waking Moment isn’t chaos; it’s controlled instability. It’s the sound of a band figuring things out in real time, but doing so with enough technical and stylistic clarity to make the process feel intentional. And for a debut album, that’s a difficult balance to strike.
What ultimately makes Liminal compelling isn’t that it reinvents alternative metal or pushes the genre into entirely new territory. It’s that it understands the emotional language of the genre and uses it effectively. Every Waking Moment isn’t trying to shock you; they’re trying to connect with you somewhere in that in-between space where things are unresolved, slightly uncomfortable, but still worth sitting with.
And in that sense, the album does exactly what its title suggests. It lingers.
Follow Every Waking Moment
About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
