If you’re still hoping pop music will hold your hand and sing you to sleep, Word Gets Around might feel like a punch to the gut. But that’s exactly the point. Igor Keller, the restless mind behind Longboat, doesn’t write songs for comfort—he crafts them to shake you out of complacency. His 32nd album (yes, you read that right) is a brutal, brainy, sometimes hilarious dissection of modern life that ditches romance for the far more terrifying landscape of cultural decay.

With titles like “Citizen Sweatpants” and “The Doomscroll Waltz,” Keller paints a picture of late-stage society that’s equal parts absurd and painfully real. His voice—dry, deliberate, unmistakable—guides each track like a narrator too aware to pretend anything is fine. The arrangements are sparse but sharp, never indulging in sonic fluff. This is songwriting as commentary, delivered with surgical precision.

But what’s remarkable is Igor Keller’s ability to turn these grim observations into something musical, even catchy. “Twilight of the Publicist” is a sly dig at the cult of branding, while the title track barrels forward with the paranoia of being always watched, always recorded. There’s no filler here—each song is a mini-manifesto.

The fact that Keller plans to release ten more albums this year alone only reinforces what Word Gets Around proves: he’s not here for applause. He’s here to challenge. To confront. To disturb the peace.

And frankly, in a world where most pop artists are still singing about breakups, we need voices like Longboat’s. The songs may not be cozy, but they’re honest—and in 2025, that’s a radical act.