Montreal’s The Fake Friends hit their stride on Let’s Not Overthink This, a full-length that folds post punk rhythm, new wave cool, and melodic bite into one long, late-night pulse. Out February 13, 2026 on Stomp Records, the record sits in a sharp, stylish lane somewhere between Pylon and Wire, Parquet Courts and Cloud Nothings, with the danceable precision of Franz Ferdinand cutting through. It is a sound wired to the city they came up in, all neon reflections, cold sidewalks, and the kind of after-hours clarity that only shows up when the metro’s running every half hour. The band has lived a few lives already. What started in 2020 as a reason to hang out turned into a scene fixture that never quite fits into any one pocket. Frontman Matthew Savage and guitarist Luca Santilli built the bones, pulling in longtime collaborators Felix Crawford-Legault, Michael Kamps, Bradley Cooper-Graham, and Michael Tomizzi until the lineup locked into place. There are hardcore ghosts under the floorboards and old show posters still stuck to the walls in their heads, but these days the energy is channeled into something sharper, more controlled, more deliberately messy. Stylish without trying to be. Serious without sounding like it.
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The record opens with “Ministry Of Peace,” a jittery broadcast that lifts its antenna toward media noise and cultural static. Savage repeats “no truce” as the song tightens around him, guitars slicing through the haze. It sets up the album’s central theme: trying to hold onto yourself while the night tilts in every direction. “Sucker Born Every Minute” takes that momentum and swings it wide, mixing melodic punch with the kind of self-aware venom that comes from knowing your own patterns too well. “The Way She Goes” cools everything down, leaning into sleek guitar lines and late-night restraint, sitting in that tension between desire and self-sabotage that the band nails so well. At the center sits “HyperConnection,” the album’s nervous heartbeat. It is a tight, shimmering track that balances wit and anxiety without blinking. Savage rolls his eyes at astrology, chokes on long books, and stumbles through mixed signals while the band locks into a groove that feels like the inside of a crowded room. The mantra “all eyes on me” loops until it stops sounding like confidence and starts sounding like pressure. It is the clearest statement of what the record does best, turning everyday absurdity into something cathartic, catchy, and just a little unhinged. As the album unfolds, the emotional temperature rises and falls in waves. “Control” slows the pace, letting keys drift over a beat that feels like walking home too fast in the cold. “Living The Dream” twists a familiar phrase into something queasier, all shakes and repetition, half in the moment and half out of it. “Backstreet’s Back pt. II” leans into darker swagger, a song that feels haunted without ever naming the ghost. Further down, “Dance On My Grave” becomes a strange celebration, a grin in the mirror after the worst night of your life, and “Good Friends” closes the record by stripping everything back to piano, voices, and one last bitter truth: “you fuckin’ hate this town.”
The world of the album is crowded in the best way. Friends drift in and out of the vocal stacks, lifting the choruses without turning the record into a guest parade. It feels like real life: people who’ve shared bills, basements, cheap beers, and bad shifts adding their voices because they were there and it made sense. You can hear that same community in the performances, each member pushing the others forward without stepping on the edges. Sessions at Mixart with producer and engineer Jordan Barillaro kept the energy tight, warm, and a little unstable, the way a good night should feel. Mastering from Vince Soliveri gave the record weight without cleaning off the grit. Across all eleven tracks, there is movement, mood, and the sense of a band who know exactly who they are, even if they never say it out loud. Let’s Not Overthink This feels like standing outside a venue in the dead of winter, steam rising off your jacket, friends yelling your name across the street, and the city humming under your feet. It is nostalgic without looking backward, modern without chasing trends, a debut that hits with confidence earned through years of playing loud rooms and coming out the other side sharper than they went in.
The Fake Friends Online
