Turnstile’s Never Enough is more than just the follow-up to Glow On—it’s a bold declaration of artistic freedom. Where Glow On cracked open the shell of hardcore and let the light in, Never Enough tears down the walls entirely. It’s a sprawling, ambitious, sometimes uneven, but ultimately thrilling album that balances introspection and ferocity, dreaminess and urgency. If Glow On was the blueprint for a new sound in modern punk and hardcore, Never Enough is the exploratory draft of everything that blueprint could become.

The album opens gently, almost surprisingly so, with the title track “Never Enough.” Soft vocals float over synth textures that feel more like ocean waves than amps, setting the tone for what’s to come: a world where tenderness and intensity live side by side. The transition from ambient intro to fuzzed-out riffs and emotional vocals is seamless—Turnstile knows how to build a mood, and more importantly, how to explode it. It feels like waking from a dream only to find yourself in the middle of a shout-along chorus.

Throughout the album, Turnstile toys with expectations—not just of genre, but of structure, texture, and pace. Tracks like “Sole” and “I Care” pull from familiar punk patterns—tight drums, clean guitar lines, catchy choruses—but infuse them with unexpected elements: ‘80s-style synths, dreamy backdrops, echoing vocals, and melodic softness. There’s a nostalgic undercurrent to these songs, but it’s never lazy or purely derivative. Instead, Turnstile uses their influences the way a painter uses color—pulling from across decades to create something that feels entirely their own.

One of the most exciting aspects of Never Enough is the band’s deepened commitment to sonic layering. The textures here are lush and varied: trumpets, pianos, flutes, loops, processed drums, and dense reverb. “Dreaming,” with its Latin brass flair, and “Light Design,” with its pixelated, 8-bit synth backbone, feel like genre mashups that shouldn’t work—but do. Brenden Yates’ vocal approach plays a big role here. He switches from spoken-word delivery to drawn-out melodies to raw punk shouting, often within the same song. His voice has never sounded more expressive or emotionally varied.

Lyrically, Turnstile continues to explore themes of connection, loss, hope, and emotional vulnerability—but with more openness than ever before. There’s less aggression for aggression’s sake here, and more reflection. Songs like “Magic Man” and “Seein’ Stars” showcase this softer side, with slower tempos, melancholic synths, and vocals that feel more sung than screamed. These songs don’t just close the record on a contemplative note—they validate the emotional spectrum Turnstile has been hinting at for years.

Still, Never Enough doesn’t abandon its roots. “Sunshower” and “Birds” deliver on punk’s raw promise—tight, fast, aggressive bursts of energy that feel like they were made for a sweaty basement show. But even these tracks are touched by Turnstile’s evolving sound. “Sunshower” dissolves midway into a mesmerizing loop of flutes and ambient noise—equal parts meditative and disorienting. “Birds” flirts with chaos but reins it in just enough to feel intentional, not indulgent. There’s an impressive musical discipline beneath all the wild experimentation.

Not every moment lands perfectly. Some tracks—like “Ceiling,” a short, oddball detour, and “Look Out for Me,” a long, layered track with Nirvana-like grunge elements—feel less essential and a bit overcooked. These are experiments that might have worked better as interludes or B-sides, especially in a tracklist already overflowing with sound. Still, they’re interesting detours, and even when Turnstile stumbles, they do so with purpose and curiosity.

The production on Never Enough is dense but clean. The bass is rich and round, driving many of the songs with a funk-inflected pulse. The drums, while often simple, are punchy and tight. The guitar work is wide-ranging—from thick, grungy power chords to shimmering, reverb-drenched leads. But what makes the album feel expansive is the atmosphere: the careful layering of effects, ambient noise, and synths that make each track feel like its own small universe.

More than anything, Never Enough is about freedom—creative, emotional, and sonic freedom. Turnstile refuses to be boxed in. They’re not trying to “go pop,” nor are they clinging to the past. They’re moving forward, blending post-hardcore urgency with psychedelic warmth, dream-pop introspection, and even jazzy or Latin inflections. Few bands could pull this off without sounding disjointed. Turnstile makes it sound natural.

It’s a long album, and yes, it occasionally sprawls—but that sprawl is part of its charm. It’s an album that breathes, expands, contracts, and reaches. Sometimes it soars. Sometimes it drifts. But it never sits still.

Never Enough is an album of contradictions: heavy and soft, fast and slow, joyful and melancholic. It’s about pushing beyond what a band like Turnstile is “supposed” to sound like. And while not every moment is perfect, the whole experience is refreshing, daring, and deeply human.

Turnstile isn’t just evolving—they’re opening doors for a whole new space in modern music. Never Enough is exactly that: a record that challenges the idea of what’s enough—and keeps going.

RATING: 8.5/10