Yes, James is a genius, but not in a showy or overworked way. He builds a sound that supports Richie’s lyrics without softening them or blunting their intent. The music holds its nerve and doesn’t tidy things up.

Faster, Archives of Pain, Mausoleum, PCP are tense, questioning tracks, but not one-note. The album moves between frustration, accusation, and a quieter, more resigned tone. It never quite settles, which feels like the point, a steady push and pull between protest and reluctant acceptance.

Had Richy not, well, you know, the trajectory might have been very different. That album had the kind of depth and tension that tends to age well, the sort critics circle back to. It could easily have settled into those international top 100 rock album lists, not as a token inclusion, but on merit, as something that still speaks rather than simply endures.