New York Before the War opens with slow-burning, melancholy ballad, ‘The Dreamers’, and the darkness and disillusionment it evokes pervade the rest of the album. Malin explores a variety of genres and influences while keeping things thematically consistent. Folky fingerpicking on ‘The Year That I Was Born’ rubs shoulders with the Pavement-esque alt-rock of ‘Oh Sheena’; later country stomper ‘Bent Up’ moves seamlessly into the soulful ‘She Don’t Love Me Now.’ It’s a lot to juggle but Malin’s vision is coherent throughout.
His voice balances yearning with rage. It isn’t the prettiest thing but you don’t doubt the truth behind every word he says. However, his true strength is as a lyricist. “I been running from the outskirts/ got some money on the wrong horse/ I just got nowhere else to go,” he sings on the deceptively upbeat ‘Addicted’, a line that sounds like Springsteen at his nihilistic best. 
There are still crowd-pleasing moments aplenty, with catchy choruses and irresistible hooks. Expect large-scale sing-alongs to the chorus of ‘Bent Up’ (“Here comes Johnny with a brand new soul/ all fucked up on rock and roll”). But New York Before the War is a thoughtful, meditative work. It’s an album for our time that demands attention.