Some people just don’t get the album. Playlist people want constant variety. Yes, they might binge five seasons of a show in a weekend, but no way could they commit to 45 minutes of music from one artist or group.

There are playlist people, and there are album people. I am the latter, and I have often wondered how to convert more to my way of thinking.

Tugaloo’s “Before I’m Born Again” could well be the answer. This album draws you in, spins you around repeatedly, and brings a sense of controlled chaos that no playlist could.

In my review of the song “Pebble” I said that it was a “multi-genre banger”. The same is true of the album but on steroids.

What genre is this? The answer to that is simply “yes?”

After the intriguing dialogue “Ben’s Intro” we get to the first real track, “SKETCHY” – and it is.

The intro hits you like a ton of bricks. There’s no soft serve subtle start to proceedings, just screaming, massive drums and a huge vocal hook.

“Welcome to the valley son where chaos is alive”

A mission statement for the album, and a warning to the listener. As the song carries we are given more sonic chaos, in the shape of the word “Sketchy” shifting from side to side and up and down in the stereo field. Big drums pounding throughout.

In the next track, Boulder, we have a modern R&B number that morphs into a huge crescendo with a drum outro that threatens to go into double time, and in not doing so, leaves you almost falling off your chair.

It was at this point when first listening that I said to myself out loud “This is really good!”

Swallowed by a Fish picks up the baton and delivers some lyrical intrigue to match the name.

“Then the future’s made out of straw.”

Fragile and flammable? Renewable?

In “Derealization” we reach the chaotic centre of the album. Upright bass brings a sense of calm, which is briefly smashed with huge vocals.

“Well shit, I don’t exist”

A flute solo then helps the calm return, as it knowingly meanders into the halfway point of the song, we come to the turnaround, and just like Lin Miranda Manuel’s masterpiece, Don’t Talk About Bruno, it’s happened before you know what hit you. If I had one complaint on this entire album, it would be that this song could go on for longer. I want to hear how giant it can go.

But that’s why an album is so beautiful, and it’s why this album is beautiful too. It does the opposite of what you expect at all times and what to me is the chaotic centre of the album, also feels like an end.

Acroabt follows and starts by speeding you up out of a daze, before building into a massive falsetto crescendo.

If at this point you’re thinking, “Okay Dan, this sounds cool! But wouldn’t a sea-shanty-inspired track be a good addition now?” then don’t worry because that’s what you get with Tie Me to the Boat. Tugaloo gives the people what they want.

The sea-faring theme rolls into the interlude. “Turritopsis Dohrnii (Interlude)” explores the thoughts and feelings of a biologically immortal organism. Quite a big topic for less than two minutes, but it’s two minutes that deliver one of the album’s most striking lines.

“Immortal jellyfish do you ever wish you’re not?”

Not what? A jellyfish? Wishing? Immortal?

The open-endedness of this question, even if accidental, is just another example of the endless tapestry of layers woven deep into the fabric of this album.

Pebble is the album’s penultimate track. It’s a transformative, hard-hitting number and just like Derealization, I wanted it to go on. But there is an art to knowing when something is finished, and Tugaloo has that nailed.

How to conclude such a dynamically shifting album?

The title track!

Cinematic soundscapes, plucked strings and another incredible change. As the uplifting major keys takeover, Tugaloo asks a question.

“So where should I begin?”

If this is only the start I am genuinely honoured to witness it. Because this album has everything. It’s hard-hitting and subtle. Simple and complex. Abstract and straight-up.

It also feels complete, Whereas a playlist is a collection of songs, sometimes thrown together, sometimes painstakingly cherry-picked from the annuls of music, an album is a statement.

In the world of pop, that statement can be fleeting. In the realm of prog-metal, that statement can be hard to find. But in Tugaloo’s album, which spans the genre divide, there is a strong musical message that makes sense of chaos by harnessing it.

It’s an album for album people and an album for playlist people. Unless you’re in your 80s and your music taste has never left the easy listening days of Decca, I struggle to believe there isn’t something for you here.

It’s honest, varied and exciting and if there is to be peace between lovers of albums and playlists, then this is the vehicle to make it happen.