Superstar Crush: Way Too Much Sounds Like Learning to Live Loud
Nate Kline
Written by Nate Kline in Sonic Journeys Music

Superstar Crush: Way Too Much Sounds Like Learning to Live Loud

There’s something arresting about a band that refuses to whisper when the room’s begging for a shout. Hamilton’s Superstar Crush found that space—and Way Too Much is them thriving in it. The debut album kicks open the door with guitars jangling, synths glinting like shards of mirror, and two vocals trading off like adrenaline and insight. It’s messy, it’s emotional, it’s pop-rock with its shoes kicked off and its heart on fire.

The record doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel—it chooses instead to ride that wheel until the spokes wobble. From crunchy power-pop hooks to baroque flourishes (hello sax, hello horns), the sound is generous. Way Too Much is built for dancing, for yelling your feelings into a mic you bought in a second-hand store, for realizing the chaos you thought was inside you is just the beginning of what you could be.

Track after track, Superstar Crush navigate that space between vulnerability and spectacle. “Do What U Wanna,” the album’s lead single, is the manifesto: desire, jealousy, confidence, a roar wrapped in a grin. Their lyrics tumble out unfiltered, “you can’t keep me down” isn’t a line—it’s a promise. Elsewhere, they shift gears with sneakier moves: a ballad with tremolo guitars, a layered pop song with brass and subtle drama. They’re not afraid to mix moods, to let the high and the low both have a seat at the same table.

What sets this band apart is their personality. You can sense it in the way the hooks hit and the weird little musical flourishes peek around the edges. They’ve got that theatrical streak—the girl-group energy, the late-night garage gig grit—tied together with a confidence barely old enough to drink. But you believe them. You feel them.

If the album teaches one thing, it’s this: growing up doesn’t mean getting softer. It means getting louder. It means singing louder, feeling louder, even when the floor’s rattling. Superstar Crush don’t polish their rough edges. They amplify them.

Way Too Much doesn’t settle for good. It demands more. More volume, more feeling, more truth. And in that volume, you find something rare: a band who even in their debut sound like they’ve been holding back for too long.

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