This Will Make You Feel Again

The latest full length offering from Levels, This Will Make You Feel Again, is an album that doesn’t just present itself as a collection of songs, it unfolds more like an emotional journey, one that is deliberately paced, richly textured and deeply introspective. From the very first moments, there’s a palpable sense that this is a record built with intention, where every sonic decision feeds into a wider narrative about disconnection, vulnerability and ultimately, the attempt to reclaim feeling in a world that often dulls it.

What immediately stands out is the album’s commitment to atmosphere. Rather than relying purely on immediacy or hook driven songwriting, Levels lean into a slow burn approach, allowing tracks to evolve organically. The opening stretch is particularly effective in establishing this identity, there’s a careful layering of sound, where ambient textures and melodic fragments gradually give way to fuller, more impactful arrangements. It creates a feeling of immersion, as though the listener is being drawn into a space rather than simply observing it from the outside.

This sense of immersion is reinforced by the production, which feels both expansive and intimate at the same time. There’s a cinematic quality to how the album is constructed wide, reverb drenched passages sit alongside more confined, almost claustrophobic moments. It’s this contrast that gives the record much of its emotional weight. When the music swells, it feels overwhelming in a purposeful way; when it pulls back, those quieter moments carry an almost uncomfortable honesty. The dynamic range across the album is one of its greatest strengths, ensuring that even across a longer runtime, it never feels monotonous.

Instrumentally, the album thrives on its ability to balance heaviness with fragility. The more aggressive elements, distorted tones, driving rhythms and dense arrangements are never used gratuitously. Instead, they feel like emotional peaks, erupting at moments where the tension built in the quieter sections can no longer be contained. These heavier passages hit harder because of the restraint shown elsewhere. Conversely, the softer moments aren’t just filler, they’re essential to the album’s identity, providing the space needed for reflection and emotional processing.

There’s also a strong sense of textural detail throughout. Layers reveal themselves over repeated listens, subtle background elements, harmonic nuances and small production choices that might not register immediately but contribute significantly to the overall atmosphere. This is very much an album that rewards patience. The more time you spend with it, the more it opens up, revealing complexities that aren’t immediately apparent on a first pass.

Vocally, this is arguably one of the most compelling aspects of the record. The performance feels deeply human, there’s a rawness to it that avoids feeling overly polished or detached. Whether delivering more intense, almost confrontational passages or leaning into quieter, more vulnerable territory, the vocal delivery consistently serves the emotional core of the music. There’s a natural fluidity in how these styles are blended, transitions between clean and harsher tones feel purposeful rather than performative, mirroring the internal push and pull that defines the album’s themes.

Lyrically, This Will Make You Feel Again operates in a space that feels both personal and universal. Themes of emotional numbness, self reflection and the search for meaning run throughout, but they’re presented in a way that avoids heavy handedness. There’s a poetic quality to the writing imagery and suggestion are often favoured over direct exposition, which allows listeners to project their own experiences onto the material. It’s this openness that gives the album its staying power, it doesn’t dictate how you should feel but rather creates a space where feeling becomes unavoidable.

As the album progresses, there’s a noticeable shift in tone. The middle section, in particular, feels like the emotional core of the record. Here, the balance between intensity and vulnerability becomes even more pronounced, with tracks that push further into darker territory both sonically and thematically. There’s a sense of escalation not in a purely loud versus quiet sense but in emotional stakes. The tension that has been building since the opening tracks begins to feel more urgent, more immediate.

What’s impressive is how the album handles this escalation without losing cohesion. Even as the sound becomes heavier or more complex, there’s a clear throughline that ties everything together. Motifs both musical and thematic recur in subtle ways, reinforcing the sense that this is a unified body of work rather than a collection of disparate ideas. This cohesion is key to the album’s impact; it allows the listener to fully engage with the journey being presented.

The latter portion of the album is where things begin to feel truly cathartic. There’s a sense that all the tension, introspection, and emotional weight that has been building is finally reaching a point of release. Yet, interestingly, this release isn’t presented as a simple resolution. Instead, it feels more like a moment of clarity, an acceptance of the complexities explored throughout the record rather than a neat conclusion. This nuance adds depth to the album, preventing it from feeling predictable or overly tidy.

The closing moments are particularly effective in this regard. Rather than ending on a purely triumphant or definitively resolved note, the album leaves a lingering sense of reflection. It feels intentional, like the emotional journey doesn’t end with the final track, but instead continues with the listener long after the music has stopped. It’s a subtle but powerful way to reinforce the album’s central idea that feeling, in all its forms, is an ongoing process rather than a destination.

Another aspect worth highlighting is the album’s pacing. Despite its depth and density, it rarely feels overindulgent. Tracks are given the space they need to develop, but they don’t overstay their welcome. There’s a careful consideration of flow not just in terms of track sequencing but in how individual songs are structured. Builds feel earned, climaxes feel impactful and transitions feel natural. It’s clear that a lot of thought has gone into how the album should be experienced as a whole.

If there’s any potential drawback, it lies in the album’s very strengths. Its subtlety and reliance on atmosphere mean that it may not immediately connect with listeners looking for instant gratification. This isn’t a record built around quick hooks or easily digestible moments. Instead, it asks for attention, for patience, and for a willingness to engage on a deeper level. For some, that may be a barrier but for others, it’s precisely what will make the album resonate so strongly.

Ultimately, This Will Make You Feel Again is a deeply immersive and thoughtfully crafted piece of work. It succeeds not by overwhelming the listener with constant intensity, but by carefully guiding them through a spectrum of emotions, tension, vulnerability, introspection and release. Levels have created something that feels authentic and cohesive, an album that doesn’t just aim to be heard in passing, but to be experienced fully.

It’s the kind of record that grows with you over time. Each listen reveals something new, whether it’s a subtle production detail, a lyrical nuance or simply a deeper emotional connection to the material. And in that sense, the album achieves exactly what its title suggests. It doesn’t force emotion, but it creates the conditions for it to emerge naturally, making it a genuinely affecting and memorable listen.