It’s over twenty years since Corey Taylor screamed “I push my fingers into my eyes…” and somehow managed to sum up an entire generation’s relationship with pain, pressure, and release in one song. “Duality” felt like a manifesto.
Mykl Barton gets there in two words.
Sick Joy.
For a few years now, Barton has been walking his own tightrope — never settling, never smoothing off the edges. More Forever was recorded between his home in Brighton and his roots in Newcastle, and you can hear that push and pull all the way through it. Identity, noise and introspection all colliding.
“Back At The Beginning” opens things quietly, acoustic and restrained — the calm before the storm. It feels reflective, almost wary, like he knows what’s coming next.
“All Damage” snaps that calm in half. “Damaged, no control,” Barton sings, a buzz of tension running underneath it all. There’s a whisper buried in the headphones that feels deliberately unsettling, and once it gets under your skin you don’t really want it to stop.
“Nothing Good” slows the pulse without losing the weight. “Tread soft on my broken glass” lands with real maturity, the piano giving the song space to breathe rather than cushioning the blow.
Then comes “Anything Goes”, which absolutely defines what More Forever is about. The sound broadens, electronic pulses drive the momentum, and the choruses soar. “Give me a scar I can use” is the sort of line Barton specialises in — wounded, but weaponised.
“Cinnamon Burn” carries a late-90s feel in its bones, but the choruses drag it firmly into the now, while “Gone Missing” feels like it’s constantly lurking in the shadows, tension simmering rather than exploding.
“Here We Are, Somewhere Liminal” is where the record really leans into catharsis. It asks the uncomfortable questions — is this love, or is it something darker entirely?
“Stockholm Flavour” follows with a line that cuts deep: “I’ve been pretending I’m good at letting go.” It’s brutally honest, and it sticks.
“Video Game” ramps up the urgency, almost desperation creeping into the delivery, before “Strawberries And Cigarettes” swings closer to the raw rock ’n’ roll snap of the debut — there’s even a hint of Zico Chain grit in its teeth.
“Somebody Else” is pure energy, dancy and sharp, with Barton singing “maybe we can keep our mouths shut” over a beat that refuses to sit still. It also gives the album its title — and its meaning.
The closer, “Death Scene (More Forever)”, seals it. Not with answers, but with acceptance of the struggle.
Sick Joy are already superb — opening for everyone from Deaf Havana to Pearl Jam and Pixies doesn’t happen by accident. But More Forever proves this is about more than pedigree. This is catharsis, conflict, and compulsion, all turned into something vital.
In “Anything Goes”, Barton intones: “I can do anything I want, if I wanted it.” And just like that, we’re back to “Duality” again. The battle never ends — but few are as good as Sick Joy at turning it into songs that matter.
RATING: 8.5/10
