Hot Mulligan’s The Sound A Body Makes When It’s Still is the band at their most unflinching and emotionally raw, an album that buries its sharp humour inside songs that ache with vulnerability. Known for pairing absurd song titles with gut-punch lyricism, the Michigan emo stalwarts stretch their sound further than ever here, balancing breakneck energy with moments of startling stillness. From the jagged chaos of And A Big Load to the suffocating weight of its quieter cuts, the record reads like a diary of self-doubt, survival, and the relentless search for connection in the face of isolation. It’s a body of work that doesn’t just reinforce why Hot Mulligan sit at the forefront of modern emo—it redefines their place as storytellers who turn pain into catharsis and humour into a shield.
Moving To Bed Bug Island eases the album into motion with a kind of weary melancholy, its restrained guitars and muted rhythms creating the feeling of drifting rather than charging forward. It’s a subdued introduction, but one that carries immense emotional weight, Tades Sanville’s vocals are fragile, almost trembling, as if each line is pulled from the edge of exhaustion. The song aches with a quiet sadness, its lyrics circling themes of disconnection and longing without ever breaking into catharsis. Instead, it lingers in the stillness, letting the emptiness speak louder than any explosive hook could. As the first track, it immediately sets The Sound A Body Makes When It’s Still apart from Hot Mulligan’s past work: less frantic and more reflective, leaning into vulnerability over velocity, and preparing the listener for a record that’s unafraid to sit with silence as much as sound.
Island In The Sun rides a deceptively bright, summery rhythm, with jangly guitars and breezy percussion that almost make you want to sway along, but the lyrics pull sharply in the opposite direction. Sanville’s vocals drip with vulnerability, and the feature from Free Throw’s Cory Castro adds a haunting counterpoint, their voices trading lines that expose loneliness, regret, and quiet despair. The contrast between the sunny instrumentation and the raw emotional weight of the words creates a tension that lingers long after the song ends, turning a seemingly light track into one of the album’s most affecting moments. It’s an elegant example of Hot Mulligan’s ability to layer moods: playful on the surface, yet heartbreakingly honest underneath.
Monica Lewinskibidi keeps the album’s mix of melancholy and playfulness alive, pairing energetic instrumentation with lyrics that cut beneath the surface. The guitars and upbeat rhythm create a bouncy, almost irreverent backdrop, but Sanville’s vocals layer in a sense of awkwardness, vulnerability, and quiet self-reflection, turning humour into something almost painful. The track balances absurdity and sincerity, making the listener both smile and wince as the lyrics touch on personal insecurities, awkward social dynamics, and the weight of embarrassment. It’s a perfect example of Hot Mulligan’s skill at blending levity with introspection: what feels like a quirky, summery tune on first listen reveals deeper emotional textures on closer attention. Monica Lewinskibidi proves that the band can make the listener move and think at the same time, capturing the restless, contradictory energy that runs through the entire album.
Carbon Monoxide Hotel slows the pace slightly while maintaining a tension that feels quietly suffocating. The instrumentation is airy yet slightly ominous, with muted guitars and restrained percussion creating the sense of being trapped in a space that’s simultaneously familiar and hazardous. Sanville’s vocals are raw and intimate, carrying a sense of exhaustion and quiet desperation that contrasts with the almost casual flow of the rhythm. Lyrically, the track explores themes of self-destruction, isolation, and the invisible weight of emotional turmoil, turning a seemingly mundane metaphor into something unsettlingly vivid. The juxtaposition of melodic, almost hypnotic instrumentation with the darkness of the lyrics makes Carbon Monoxide Hotel one of the album’s most haunting moments—a song that lingers long after it ends, embedding its unease in the listener’s mind.
The album closes with My Dad Told Me To Write A Nice One for Nana So This Is It, a deceptively short but emotionally resonant track that distills everything Hot Mulligan does best into just over a minute. Stripped-down and strikingly personal, it trades some of the chaos of earlier tracks for a more reflective, almost resigned tone. The title suggests humour or deflection, but what follows feels like a quiet moment of honesty, grief and tenderness tucked between the lines. It’s not a grand finale, but a final note that lingers: bittersweet, unresolved, and deeply human. In a record full of emotional volatility and clever phrasing, this closer reminds us that sometimes the most powerful statements are the ones whispered rather than shouted.
Hot Mulligan delivers an album that feels both chaotic and calculated, blending emotional volatility with razor-sharp songwriting and an unmistakable sense of self-awareness. It’s a record that thrives on contradiction: loud but vulnerable, sarcastic but sincere and somehow makes it all cohesive. The band continues to push the boundaries of modern emo and pop-punk without losing the raw, confessional core that draws listeners in. With tight instrumentation, clever lyricism, and a clear sense of purpose, this album is less of a reinforcement of their place in the scene, but a showcase of how they’re still growing, still restless, and still unafraid to feel everything all at once.
For fans of: Free Throw, The Wonder Years, Arm’s Length
‘The Sound A Body Makes When It’s Still’ by Hot Mulligan is out now on Pure Noise Records.
Words by Ell Bradbury
