Or a Brockley Afternoon by Nick Nicely: Album Review
Or a Brockley Afternoon by Nick Nicely: Album Review
If you’re a “music person,” you can listen to Nick Nicely‘s new album, Or a Brockley Afternoon, “for the first time” twice. This is, of course, impossible from a literal standpoint, but my first two times listening to this album were markedly different. During the first, I was greeted with interesting instrumentation and neo-psychedelia that—outside of modern production values—would fit beautifully next to some excellent but unfortunately overlooked psychedelia of the ‘60s. Songs such as “Wildflowers” by The Holy Mackerel come to mind. Nuggets-core, if you will.
On the second listen, I was anticipating the vibrant textures and interesting musical changeups throughout the LP. But during the opening moments of the first song, “Mike Hall Is Calling,” Nicely delivers one of the most beautiful opening lines that I have heard in 2026, “The soothsayer’s done, but I’m still asleep.” I became fixated on—if not slightly entranced by—the fascinating lyrics. Initially, I was so busy admiring the sonic elements that I hadn’t given the lyrics much thought, but now that’s all I can think about.
Naming a bunch of lyrics specifically would serve no purpose due to the surrealistic and innately psychedelic style and phrasing. Out of context, it would likely come across as a curated list of acid head-isms and performative freakery. However, in truth, these aren’t surrealist lyrics for the sake of developing an air of psychedelia, but rather vibrant poetry in motion. Nearly every line seemingly paints a still image from a larger film—or perhaps cinematic universe—that only Nicely can see. Yet the scenes are described in such painstaking detail that the listener can’t help but visualize some secondhand interpretation of the story. I find this to be fascinating because what you picture when you hear the lyric “facing away from the sun” may be the literal act of facing away from the sun while in the desert. What I picture is the act of metaphorically “turning away” from something that causes me discomfort. However, Nicely likely meant something entirely different than either of those two things, and I believe therein lies the brilliance of his writing.
It is my interpretation that Nicely is trying to tell the audience something important about himself in these lyrics. However, while this indirect way of venting initially may seem impersonal, it actually feels very vulnerable. Instead of saying “this is how I felt,” the message is instead relayed as imagery that anyone could relate to. Which is beautiful and honest. Further, even if this wasn’t truly the intent, the strength behind these lyrics remains true: They encourage interpretation.
Photo by Düdi
It doesn’t force interpretation but rather allows you to listen to this spacious, hypnagogic odyssey and accept it at face value as much as it lends itself to being dissected.
Returning to the sonic fingerprint of this album, the sounds are varied and the atmosphere is rich with lo-fi textures and a delightfully hazy mix of fuzz and phasers. I feel the need to laud the bright, live-performance-emulating percussion. This is most apparent on “Wonderful Day,” where it appears alongside roaring guitars, swirling vocals and sounds that I can only think to describe as “a bass guitar facing off with sentient synthesizer.” The keys on this album are very much rooted in the ‘60s and that, as ever, excites me to no end. A great example of that is the surprisingly radio ready—or normie playlist friendly—“I’ve Gone Jackson Pollock,” which would sound at home next to quite a few Flaming Lips songs.
Another highlight was the Anatolian-esque soundscape on “Facing Away.” This, paired with the mixing of Nicely’s vocals, echoes the vibrations from greats within the modern psychedelic music scene—like Das Kope and Ouza Bazooka. This track may be my favorite song on the record, but I can’t definitively say. This feels like a piece of art and breaking it into parts almost feels like jumping to your favorite moment in a song and skipping the rest—sacrilege.
Photo by Düdi
Returning to the sonic fingerprint of this album, the sounds are varied and the atmosphere is rich with lo-fi textures and a delightfully hazy mix of fuzz, phaser and panning effects. A song can be one thing and transform into something entirely different–and quickly. Yet, for all its intentional disjointedness, the record is remarkably catchy.
By the third listen, I excitedly anticipated the big switch-ups as you would with “Band on the Run” or “Bohemian Rhapsody,” but unlike those songs, Nicely doesn’t allow the listener to complacently settle into their new environment. For as soon as you might get comfortable with these new sounds, it’s onto the next big swing and these swings rarely, if ever, miss.
So, in the end, I think this album accomplishes some notable things. It reinforces this theory that Nick Nicely—an already influential cult figure in the world of psychedelia—is experiencing his creative “prime” now, in his mid-sixties. Nicely paints a vibrantly cinematic world full of stories with a truly psychedelic palette of “colours,” if you will. Lastly, he crafted a unique album that will appeal to not only his fans, but to the fans of bands he inspired—something that I believe is difficult to accomplish. That said, this album will not be a big breakout for this legend because Nicely is entirely too authentic for a society that wants to see itself in the artists they listen to.
Or A Brockley Afternoon releases September 15, 2026, on digital platforms and September 29th on vinyl.
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