Thank You Lord by Antonio Madruga

Antonio Madruga’s 'Thank You Lord' is the kind of album that knows exactly what it wants to be, and yet it doesn’t flinch. Nearly every track is a piano ballad, but not in the coffeehouse background music sense. More like an old record your grandmother has on while you begrudgingly visit her as a kid. These songs come dressed in velvet and heartbreak, full of intentional, dramatic pacing, and chord changes that aren’t just thoughtful, they’re downright romantic about being sad. Like that one friend who, while you’re kind-of carrying him to the car, loudly exclaims, “I love you guys… no, I really mean it.”

It’s like if Stevie Wonder’s chord progressions had Billy Joel’s hands and Charlie Puth’s tenor. Not literally, but spiritually. The harmonic language is rich, often jazz-influenced, with plenty of motion that never feels showy. Madruga leans into voicings that twist the emotional knife just enough, and then lets them breathe. You can hear the classical touch in the timing, but nothing ever feels stiff. Tension, but with some form of release. An indication of what will be a staple in Antonio's output.

There’s a stretch early on where 'Just Passing Time' drifts in and sets the tone. A gentle, searching piece that plays with space in a way that feels cinematic without ever tipping into melodrama. It doesn’t go too big, but it lingers. Later, 'Look Inside' opens up more internal dialogue with quietly aching melodic lines that feel like they were written at 2 am with a notebook and a glass of something strong.

The title track, 'Thank You Lord', is an understated proclamation of love that’s almost like a sermon, but not the kind that needs a choir or a climax to hit. Just a sermon for one person, himself. Fitting, considering gospel music is a direct influence on this album's sound.  And 'Am I Only Ever Wasting Time' might be the most emotionally cutting track on the record, all resignation and reflection wrapped in chords that sigh as much as they sing.

The album isn’t concerned with variety or commercial pacing, it’s all mood, impressions of Antonio's experiences or emotions. Some cuts could benefit from a little extra polish and variation in tempo, but there’s something honest in how it’s left. A raw sound that remains unapologetic, it feels more like a live set than a product to be sold.

Think of it as: “Here’s a piano. Here’s my heart. Let’s sit and get completely wine drunk together. Maybe confess our feelings.” Consistent, elegant, and quietly intense. Antonio Madruga has created a space that doesn’t just play music, it defines a feeling. And if that feeling is your vibe, this album hits the mark.

Verdict: This album asks, “What if every song was the last song of the night?” and then takes you home, and then it clears out space for you in its drawer, because it's considerate, and you matter.

Written by Adam Stone

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