Super Glyde opens Forever with an effortless smoothness, evoking the sun-drenched late-60’s Woodstock energy of Cream and Creedence Clearwater Revival. This is jam music that’s deeply comfortable in its own skin, with confidence, restraint, and taste.

With spacious playing and high-level musicianship, Forever is built on superb power-trio chemistry. Blues built on well-worn rules brought to life, the guitar is sent down multiple chains at once with colourful wah and subtle phaser effects. The structures are familiar and formulaic in the best way, leaning into tradition and letting songs stretch into long, satisfying jams.

There’s a strong sense that Forever could have been recorded half a century ago with tones and pacing that feels deliberately rooted in an intentionally dated quality, that’s more of a conscious rejection of modernity than mere nostalgia. Tracks like Stone Shadow balance intimacy and momentum, driven by quick, twitchy drumming, quiet vocals and palm-muted guitar giving a sense of closeness whilst the groove keeps your head nodding, all the energy coming from precision and feel instead of volume.

Hard Ride uses wah, flange and delay to paint a wide, dusty desert scene across seven minutes in a long, unhurried jam that eventually anchors around a single repeating piano note that the rest of the band orbit around, whilst New Realm sinks deep into muddy blues territory full of weight. This is classic warm songwriting that refuses to sound like anything recorded after 1975, recorded by musicians who clearly love jamming together, with a natural infectious quality.

There’s care poured into every decision on Forever, and you don’t need to be a guitarist to appreciate it. It’s a road-trip album for the windows down, the sun out, and the miles passing, and a conscious step away from the present-day rat race. An embrace of the old hippie dream, Forever is an affirming reminder of rock’s insistence on valuing freedom and connection over productivity and career optimisation.

The level of fuzz is dialed so far back compared to modern heavy music that it immediately places Glyders in a different lineage. There’s so much deeply professional impressive feel in the playing. Intuition and groove are doing the heavy lifting instead of technology, super hypnotic without being too complicated, and extremely precise without being too showy. Without using the studio as a corrective force, Forever lives and dies on the ability of the three musicians to work together in real time with songs slowing down and speeding up, relying on trust instead of overdubs and polish.

Forever is a warm and relaxed rejection of the rat race that takes comfort in choosing groove over the grind, and values simple human connection over speed, ambition, or confrontational anger. The hippie dream is intact.