If the end of the world had a house band and that band threw a glitter-strewn, leather-jacketed garage rave in the middle of a collapsing space-time continuum, Tom Minor would be headlining. “Expanding Universe” is an absolute cosmic romp. It kicks off with jittery percussion and thudding drums like the Big Bang getting ready for an encore. Then, enter the guitars, strumming with all the punchy charm of a drunken philosopher at a punk poetry slam. The vibe is upbeat apocalypse. The tone is smugly electric. Minor’s voice floats in with a luscious, high-pitched smirk, part preacher, part trickster, layered with a gruffer twin in the background, giving the whole thing a duet-from-the-void kind of soul.
Lyrically, it’s a surrealist roast of modern life. Billionaire tech bros, nostalgia junkies, and everyone clutching their big fat purses on the sidelines get skewered with sardonic glee. And just when you think you’ve processed the chaos, we’re flipping the record.
B-side “Future Is an F Word” keeps the sardonic flame burning, this time a little more groovy, a little more seductive in its snark. With riffs that wink and lyrics that slap, it paints the future as both a cosmic joke and a tragicomic punchline. From Newtonian attraction to shoplifting and soul-weathering, Minor weaves a wild existential monologue that’s half stand-up, half breakup letter to time itself.
In short: if Beck had a bastard lovechild with Bowie and raised it on Orwell, it might sound something like this. Check it out on Spotify.
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Review by: Naomi Joan