REVIEW: Seb Adams Crafts a Nostalgic Anthem for a New Generation
REVIEW
REVIEW
☆ BY DANIELLE HOLIAN ☆
In, Bittersweet Nostalgia, Seb Adams taps into something that feels both deeply personal and strangely universal, like flipping through an old photo album and suddenly remembering who you used to be. His second album is soaked in memories, but it’s not stuck in the past. It moves, breathes, and pulses with the kind of emotion that lingers long after the last note fades.
From the first strum of “Rearview Mirror”, Adams sets the tone: looking back, but not with regret. It’s more about honoring the things that shaped us, fleeting moments, old friends, late-night drives and then letting them go. The guitars crash and swell like waves, the lyrics land somewhere between longing and hope. It’s cathartic without being heavy-handed.
There’s a real tenderness running through this album. You can hear it in the raw edges of his voice, the warmth of a ukulele tucked into the background, the shimmer of synths that feel like they’re coming from a half-remembered dream. Bittersweet Nostalgia feels like a love letter to the people we were, the ones who stayed up too late playing video games, fell in love through AIM chats, and chased big dreams with no roadmap.
“Guitar Hero III” is especially striking, all neon glow and crackling static, a song that captures the beautiful ache of growing up. It’s filled with longing for simpler times, but also carries an undercurrent of acceptance. This isn’t about trying to go back. It’s about holding onto what matters, even as everything changes.
But the album doesn’t stay in the safe zone of wistfulness. “Man In The Mirror” digs much deeper, confronting addiction, heartbreak, and the kind of inner battles that don’t always have clean resolutions. It’s stripped back and emotionally unguarded, not just a confession, but a reminder that honesty can be a form of healing.
There’s hope here, too. “Worth Waiting For” is about patience, loyalty, and the quiet strength it takes to believe that things can get better. The reprise at the end of the album brings that message home in the softest, most sincere way, like a conversation with someone you trust when the world feels too loud.
The album wears its influences proudly, there’s a little Green Day grit, a touch of Guns N’ Roses swagger, and the introspective energy of acts like Twenty One Pilots and Awolnation. But it never feels derivative. Adams blends it all into something that’s unmistakably his: nostalgic but not dated, emotional but not melodramatic.
What makes, Bittersweet Nostalgia, stand out is its heart. It’s not just a throwback, it’s a meditation on who we were, who we are, and how the past never really lets go. The production is thoughtful without being over-polished, the songwriting is sharp and sincere, and the whole album plays like a story you didn’t know you needed to hear.
By the time the final notes of “Worth Waiting For (Reprise)” fade out, there’s this sense of quiet hope. Maybe we don’t outgrow our past, maybe we grow because of it. And maybe that’s the real gift of nostalgia: not just remembering, but learning how to keep moving forward with all the pieces we’ve gathered along the way.
