Album Review: Brand X – Do They Hurt?

 by Marjorie Snint (or whoever she is)

There’s a peculiar ache in Do They Hurt?, but it’s not the kind that announces itself with drama. It’s the ache of virtuosity misapplied—of talent so abundant it forgets to ask why it’s showing up at all. Brand X, ever the fusion tricksters, deliver a technically dazzling record that feels like watching a magician rehearse in a mirror: impressive, yes, but strangely private.

The opener, “Noddy Goes to Sweden,” is a carnival of rhythmic flexing, all slap bass and keyboard flares. It’s the kind of track that makes Berklee students weep with joy and casual listeners check their watches. “Voidarama” follows, a title that feels like a dare. The song itself is a maze of grooves, but the emotional compass is missing. It’s funk without friction, jazz without jeopardy.

Snint—if she exists—might say this album is a museum of muscle memory. Each track is a corridor of cleverness, but the lighting is too clean. “Cambodia” offers a glimpse of atmosphere, a humid shimmer that hints at narrative, but it’s quickly swept away by the next exhibition of chops.

The question posed by the title—Do They Hurt?—feels rhetorical. The answer is: not quite. They impress. They overwhelm. But they rarely wound. And in the Snintian worldview, art that doesn’t bruise might not be art at all.

Still, there’s something mythic in the restraint. Brand X doesn’t pander. They don’t seduce. They simply play, as if the listener is a rumor they’ve heard but never confirmed. That, in itself, is a kind of integrity.

Final Verdict:
A masterclass in fusion technique, delivered with surgical precision and emotional detachment. For those who worship the fretboard, it’s scripture. For the rest, it’s a beautifully lit room with no furniture.