There’s a quiet confidence to “Another Year Older” that feels earned rather than assumed. Larry Fleet has never struck me as someone chasing moments; he’s far more interested in letting life catch up with him and then writing honestly about what it leaves behind. This album feels like exactly that — a collection of songs written by someone who’s lived a bit, lost a bit, loved a lot, and isn’t pretending otherwise.
It opens with “Baseball on the Radio”, and straight away you’re wrapped in something reflective, slow-burning and warm. There’s no rush here. Fleet lets the song unfold at its own pace, full of craft and restraint, the kind of writing that trusts silence as much as sound. That sense of quiet skill runs right through the record.
There’s an innate sadness to “Hotel Bible”, not in a melodramatic way, but in that low-level ache that Fleet does so well — the feeling of being alone in a room that’s seen too many goodbyes. He’s always been good at writing loneliness without turning it into self-pity, and this is another reminder of that gift.
Then there’s “Whatever If These Walls Could Talk”, which heads somewhere a little more intimate — the sort of lyrical territory that makes you laugh, wince, and maybe blush just a bit. Fleet never overplays it, though; there’s always a sense of discretion, even when he’s clearly letting the walls hear things they probably shouldn’t.
“5.25” is one of the emotional anchors of the album. There’s such a lovely air to these songs in general, but this one in particular feels deeply personal. The way Fleet sings about family life — especially his father — is tender without ever tipping into sentimentality. It sounds like memory set to melody, handled with real care.
Perspective is a recurring theme, nowhere more so than on “Both Sides of the Fence”, where Fleet sings that “grey’s my favourite colour”. It’s a line that neatly sums up the album’s worldview: not everything is black and white, and wisdom often lives somewhere in between.
The title track, “Another Year Older”, digs into the central themes of love and loss — not the sharp, immediate kind, but the sort of loss that never really leaves you. It’s reflective, heavy in the best way, and quietly devastating in places. Fleet understands that some wounds don’t heal; they just settle in.
On “Whole Lotta Little Things”, he turns his eye toward small-town dreams, finding meaning in the everyday moments that quietly make up a life. It’s grounded, unflashy, and all the more powerful for it.
One thing that’s impossible to ignore across this record is the sheer quality of the songwriting. These songs are from the very top drawer, and “Drunk Advice” underlines that point perfectly — proof that Fleet can still stop you in your tracks with just a melody and a truth well told.
By the time “If I Still Was” rolls around, Fleet is firmly in that late-night headspace. These are 3am songs for people who are wide awake when the world has gone quiet — reflective, honest, and emotionally open in a way that feels completely natural.
Yes, this is American-made music, steeped in tradition — but that’s not the takeaway. The real achievement of “Another Year Older” is how it makes the personal feel universal, turning lived experience into songs that stay with you long after the last note fades.
RATING 8/10
