This is one of those albums that opens with a bang, and you can’t help but hope it grabs hold and doesn’t let go. That bang comes with "Man On The Moon", which begins simply enough, but once the music and vocals kick in, you know you’re in for something special. It sets the tone perfectly and leaves you eager for what follows.

Let me clear something up early. In my head, I kept drawing comparisons to another famous Irish export, Mumford and Sons. At first I thought it was the vocals, but when I went back and listened to tracks like The Cave, I realised it was my mind playing tricks, leaning too heavily on the “Irish” connection. Listening now, Mumford and Sons feel looser, more like a campfire session, while Kingfishr comes across as tighter and more polished. I hesitate to use the word “produced,” but in this case it fits, because Kingfishr’s sound gets me to where I want to be faster. That’s not to say either is better, only that while their roots may be similar, their sounds are distinctly different.

I think this becomes even clearer as the album continues with tracks like "21". By this point, the band’s sound feels more defined, the layers more deliberate, and the energy more controlled without losing its edge. There’s a real sense of momentum, almost as if the opening tracks were the spark and now we’re being carried by the flame.

For me, listening with headphones transforms the experience. The production really comes alive in the details, the separation of instruments, the space around the vocals, and the subtle textures that might be lost on a casual speaker listen. It feels like the music is wrapping around you, pulling you in closer, and that immersion makes the emotional punch of the songs land even harder.

As soon as I saw the title "Gloria", I couldn’t help but think of another Irish legend, Van Morrison, who gave us a song of the same name. While his version was a raw, raucous punch, this Gloria takes a very different path, more emotional, more introspective, and less of a smack around the chops. What really stands out here are the vocals, especially in the moments when they descend into darker depths, adding weight and intensity to the track.

Earlier I used the term “produced,” a word that often suggests constraint or excessive polish. But production doesn’t have to strip away heart and soul, and "I Cried, I Wept" proves that beautifully. It carries a raw sincerity that cuts straight through, brimming with emotion yet still finely balanced in its delivery. The track feels both vulnerable and powerful, and you can’t help but wonder whether the rest of the album can sustain this level of intensity and momentum.

With "Next To Me", the answer to that earlier question might initially feel like a no, but in truth, it offers a welcome change of pace. After the intensity of the faster tracks, this song provides a moment of respite, a gentle canter that allows the listener to catch their breath before the album gathers speed again. It’s a well placed pause that makes the return to the higher energy tracks feel even more impactful.

Given the album’s 16 tracks, it’s no surprise that the lull in pace continues with Diamonds & Roses. It’s a beautiful piece that feels like a timeless sing-along folk song, carrying a warmth and familiarity that invites you to join in. There’s even the faintest hint of banjo woven into the background, adding a subtle texture that reinforces its folk roots without overwhelming the simplicity of the melody.

And I think it's at this point when I have to realise that the monumental task of reviewing all 16 tracks may be a little like overkill, not just for me the writer, but for you the reader. Suffice to say I'll just cover a few more of the amazing tracks on this album, before the conclusion that is already pretty much formulated in my head.

"Killeagh" is another lilting track, one that reflects on origins and upbringing, blending memories of childhood, local sports, and the thrill of victory. The song has a gentle, almost nostalgic rhythm that carries you along, making it easy to imagine the sights, sounds, and small triumphs of growing up. There’s a warmth and sincerity in the storytelling that makes it feel both personal and universal, connecting the listener to the emotions and experiences at its heart.

The album closes with "Schooldays" a more reflective footnote. The lyrics explore the weight and impermanence of life, acknowledging personal struggles, loss, and the lessons of the past, while also celebrating moments of beauty and nostalgia. It conveys a bittersweet acceptance of life’s trials and fleeting joys.

This is one of those albums that, from the very first notes, you just know is going to be something special. It draws you in, holds your attention, and doesn’t let go until the final track gently ebbs away. Kingfishr strike me as a band that would be incredible to experience live. They’re touring Canada at the end of September, though unfortunately I won’t be here, but I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for their return.