Coheed and Cambria New album review - The Father Of Make Believe

For over two decades, Coheed and Cambria have walked the delicate line between the expansive and the intimate, crafting records that push the boundaries of progressive rock, post-hardcore, and conceptual storytelling. With their new album The Father Of Make Believe, Claudio Sanchez and company pick up on the longest running concept story in all of music ‘The Amory Wars’. With one of the most recognisable voices in modern music and profound storytelling ability there is undoubtedly excitement for this new offering. It’s a 'mask off' experience for Sanchez, as he attempts to express the real-world struggles of his life, while still keeping a part of himself hidden. By casting himself as the ‘Father of Make Believe,’ he places himself at the center, looking back on the past 20-plus years with a sense of reflection and vulnerability.

We start with “Yesterday’s Lost,” which opens with a delicate piano melody and soothing strings that promises depth and emotional resonance. Sanchez vocals are pensive and reflective however, the guitar line behind him plods along, never truly lifting the music off the ground. It’s not that “Yesterday’s Lost” is bad —it just feels like a disappointment. There’s an expectation for something more dynamic, a spark that never ignites. It’s a track that feels more like a muted prelude than the thrilling opening that fans have come to expect from Coheed.

The album thankfully shifts gears with ‘Goodbye, Sunshine’ which promises more, with a lively opening. Sanchez’s vocals come through with a fiery declaration, singing “I don’t wanna be your kind” over the fierce, infectious riffing of Travis Stever and the dynamic drumming of Josh Eppard. Despite the song’s technical brilliance, something about “Goodbye, Sunshine” feels hollow. The music, as energetic as it is, doesn’t quite carry the emotional weight it should. It’s a track that should feel rebellious, cathartic, and full of raw emotion, but it never quite reaches that level. Instead, it feels almost detached—like a performance rather than a confession. And that’s perhaps the album’s most frustrating paradox.

This theme flows through with ‘Searching for Tomorrow’ and the title track following in much the same vein. Then comes “Meri of Merci”—a beacon of hope in an album that has otherwise struggled to hit its full stride. The track opens with a swinging and hypnotic piano line, setting a somber yet inviting tone. But it’s when Sanchez’s voice enters that the track truly comes alive. Here, he is at his brilliant best—vibrant, rich, and emotionally resonant. There’s a rare depth to his delivery, one that seizes the listener's attention and refuses to let go. His voice swells through the verses, with each word permeating with meaning. The chorus is nothing short of majestic—soaring to new heights, yet there’s an effortless quality to it. It’s the kind of moment where Coheed and Cambria remind you just how powerful their music can be when it clicks on every level.

And yet, this glorious moment is followed by a dramatic change of pace that only highlights just how disjointed this album truly is. ‘Blind Side Sonny’, the newest single, is a raucous punk rock banger that feels jarringly out of place. The song bursts forth with a burst of energy, driven by fast, thrashing guitars and a stomping rhythm section. It’s a track full of swagger and attitude, with Sanchez barking out the lyrics in a decidedly uncharacteristic style. While there’s no denying that it will likely go down a treat at future live shows and there is a great rawness to the track, it comes across as more of a calculated burst than a natural shift in tone. 

“Play The Poet” follows, and at least it feels like it belongs to the same album—if only in the sense that it continues at the same frantic pace. The song opens with an electronic intro, all throbbing synths and digital percussion, before slamming into an abrupt verse. The song ticks all the expected boxes—an electronic intro, a predictable build-up, and a chorus that’s catchy but formulaic. It feels like we've been here before, and the track ultimately offers little new. In a way, “Play The Poet” is exactly what you would expect after “Blind Side Sonny”, yet it still somehow feels out of step with the rest of the album. The band seem caught between trying to push boundaries and falling back on familiar tropes, and the result is a record that is at once overly formulaic and completely unpredictable. How they've managed to pull off both is, frankly, quite remarkable.

By now, you’re seven tracks into The Father Of Make Believe, and the overriding feeling it leaves you with is one of frustration. The technical proficiency is undeniable, but it’s all starting to feel like a series of disconnected moments rather than a cohesive, engaging album. You glance at the track listing and, with mounting horror, realize that you’re only at the halfway mark. The sense of disjointedness weighs heavier with each passing track.

“One Last Miracle” arrives, and while it takes you back to the kind of sound the album was cultivating before the two-track punk detour, it does little to reinvigorate the experience. Like much of what has come before, it’s impeccably played and the production is polished to within an inch of its life, ensuring that every note is crisp and clear, every rhythm section thundering with precision. The technical aspects are flawless, but that’s precisely where the problem lies—it’s so clean, so controlled, that it feels devoid of any real passion.

The true surprise of the album finally comes when you reach ‘Someone Who Can’. For a moment, you actually double-take—wondering if you’ve accidentally put on a The 1975 record instead. It’s a refreshing, delightfully simple track that’s so catchy it’s almost impossible not to tap your foot along to the beat. The song’s buoyant, poppy vibe stands in stark contrast to the album’s often heavy, introspective tone, leaving you with a grin on your face and a bemused sense of what this track is doing in the midst of the surrounding material.

The album comes to its final chapters with “The Continuum” Parts I, II, III, and IV—four tracks that continue the trend of The Father Of Make Believe’s erratic pacing and unpredictable shifts. The songs do little to resolve the disjointed nature of the record. If anything, they further prove that Coheed and Cambria are nothing if not consistent in their inconsistency. The Continuum is a sprawling, multi-part narrative  but it feels less like a grand conclusion and more like the final attempt to stitch together the jagged puzzle pieces of an album that’s never quite come together.

By the time the final notes of “The Continuum” fade, you’re left with a sense of unfinished business. There are moments of brilliance—“Meri of Merci” and “Someone Who Can” being the most notable—but they are few and far between. Coheed and Cambria have once again proven that they are capable of greatness, and unafraid to explore the boundaries of their own sound, even if it means creating a record that is, mostly, maddeningly inconsistent.