Spoon
– They Want My Soul
No one else carves out space like Spoon. They Want My Soul feels like a band deep into its run—tenured, unbothered, and still capable of turning a tight groove into something that feels urgent. It’s not flashy, it doesn’t lean on nostalgia, and it sure as hell doesn’t pander. It moves with the confidence of musicians who know exactly how little they need to say to say a lot.

Britt Daniel’s voice has always been slightly frayed around the edges—like sandpaper with a melody. On this album, it’s front and center, cutting through synths, stabs of guitar, and strange percussive decisions that shouldn’t work together but do. The production, courtesy of both Dave Fridmann and Joe Chiccarelli, doesn’t smooth things out—it makes them pop. Space is the secret weapon here. Every sound is allowed to hang in the air just long enough to sting.
There’s a slyness to the songwriting. These aren’t singalongs, they’re slow burns that sneak under your skin. The band plays like a machine built out of rubber bands and razor blades—flexible, snappy, and occasionally dangerous. It’s an album built for repetition, because it rewards patience. You don’t need to get it all at once. Spoon is fine with you catching up later.
Choice Tracks
Rent I Pay
Opens with a stomp that’s pure barroom menace. The riff grinds like a busted amp and Daniel’s delivery drips with disdain. It’s all teeth and rhythm, and it sets the tone.
Inside Out
Spoon goes soft-focus without losing their edge. A heartbeat rhythm pulses beneath hazy synths and celestial keys. The lyrics float, but that bassline keeps it grounded. A standout track, and one of their most affecting.
Do You
Pop structure meets Spoon’s minimalism. The hook is simple but sticky, and Daniel makes ambiguity sound seductive. It’s catchy without trying to be, which is their trick.
They Want My Soul
The title track snarls. The guitars are sharp, the groove insistent, and the chorus? All bark with a real bite. It’s bitter, stylish, and strangely graceful.
New York Kiss
The closer. Dreamy and a little detached, it floats along on synths and half-whispers. Feels like a slow exhale after the rest of the album’s tightly coiled tension.
They Want My Soul is Spoon at their most quietly lethal. Every note is clipped, every groove deliberate. It’s slick, spare, and strange in all the right ways. Nothing overreaches, yet everything hits. A slow burn that lingers long after the last note.