ALBUM REVIEW - THE CRIBS – SELLING A VIBE
- Rick E
- Jan 18
- 7 min read
WORDS RICK E
SELLING A VIBE
THE CRIBS
OUT NOW
There is something deeply satisfying about watching a band that's been written off more times than a knackered Ford Escort come roaring back with an album that reminds you exactly why you fell in love with them in the first place. The Cribs have spent the better part of two decades carving out their own unique space in British indie rock, weathering the inevitable cycles of hype and indifference that seem to claim so many of their contemporaries. With Selling A Vibe, their ninth studio album, the Jarman brothers—Ryan, Gary, and Ross—deliver what might just be their most cohesive and confident work since 2009's Ignore the Ignorant
Let's get one thing straight from the off: this isn't a band trying to recapture their youth or desperately clinging to the coattails of the mid-2000s indie boom that first brought them to prominence. The Cribs in 2026 are a different beast entirely leaner, meaner, and arguably more focused than they've ever been. Where some of their recent output has felt slightly unfocused, torn between the scrappy garage rock aesthetic of their early work and the more polished production values of their later records, Selling A Vibe strikes a near-perfect balance between raw energy and sonic sophistication.
"Dark Luck" kicks things off with a proper statement of intent. From the opening drum salvo, you know you are in for something special. Ryan's fuzzy-yet-crisp guitar cuts through like a rusty blade, all jagged edges and righteous fury, while his vocals strain against the melody in that distinctively Cribs way. It's a song about endings that paradoxically feels like a beginning, setting the tone for everything that follows. The production here is immaculate—you can hear every string scrape, every cymbal wash, every bass note throbbing underneath. This is how you open an album, establishing immediately that while The Cribs might be older, they've lost none of their bite.
"Selling a Vibe", the title track, sits early in the running order and serves as a thematic centrepiece for the entire record. There's a self-aware quality to this one, a sense that The Cribs are fully cognizant of their place in the indie rock ecosystem and comfortable enough to comment on it with a wry smile. Gary's bass absolutely throbs throughout, providing the backbone for layers of guitar that build on each other to create something genuinely euphoric. It's one of the album's longer tracks, and it earns every second of its runtime. Ryan's vocals are particularly strong here, finding that sweet spot between melody and aggression that has always been the band's secret weapon.
"A Point Too Hard to Make" is where things really start to click. This one has an arpeggio-backed chorus that ranks among the finest melodies The Cribs have ever committed to tape, which is saying something for a band with their track record. The verses twist and turn in unexpected ways, keeping you on your toes, before that massive chorus hits like a freight train. Wimberly's production really shines here, giving the song room to breathe while maintaining the intensity that makes it so compelling. The breakdown in the middle section is brilliantly executed, stripping everything back before building to an absolutely massive finale. If there is a potential single on this record that could break through to a wider audience, this is it.
"Never the Same" offers a Beatles-Esque jangle that feels like a breath of fresh air without sacrificing any of The Cribs' trademark urgency. The melody here is deceptively simple but devastatingly effective, with the vocal lines syncing up perfectly with the raw guitar chords in a way that embeds itself in your brain after a single listen. There is a wistfulness to the lyrics that suggests the band grappling with change and the passage of time, but it's delivered with enough energy that it never becomes maudlin. Ross's drumming throughout is particularly inspired, driving the song forward with relentless precision while leaving space for the quieter moments to land with proper emotional weight.
"Summer Seizures" is an absolute stunner, the first song recorded for the album and one that immediately established the direction for everything that followed. This is an air-punching slow burn that glistens with sun-flecked melancholia, the kind of track that makes you want to stare wistfully out of windows while contemplating your life choices. Ryan's guitar tone here is gorgeous; all shimmer and reverb without losing that essential Cribs rawness. The verses build with patient confidence, never rushing to get to the chorus, and when that payoff finally arrives it is absolutely worth the wait. There is a maturity to the songwriting here that speaks to a band who have learned the value of restraint and how to use it for maximum impact.
"Looking for the Wrong Guy" shifts gears into more introspective territory, finding Ryan reflecting on the peculiar realities of rock star life after two decades in the game. This is The Cribs at their most vulnerable, with production that strips away some of the bombast to reveal something more fragile underneath. It's a relatively downbeat moment on a record that's otherwise bursting with energy, but it's an essential one—a chance to catch your breath and reflect before the album kicks back into high gear. Gary's bass work here is particularly melodic, carrying much of the emotional weight while the guitars provide atmospheric texture rather than their usual assault.
"If Our Paths Never Crossed" builds on that introspective mood while gradually ramping the intensity back up. This one has got a jagged, almost post-punk rhythm that recalls early Gang of Four, with Gary's bass driving the song forward while Ryan's guitar stabs and parries around it. The interplay between the brothers is fascinating here, a musical conversation that feels lived-in and intuitive in a way that only comes from decades of playing together. By the time the outro hits, we are firmly back in classic Cribs territory—loud, proud, and absolutely uncompromising.
"Self-Respect" is a proper banger that leans into a danceable pulse that expands the band's palette in genuinely exciting ways. This is the track where Wimberly's pop production sensibilities pay the biggest dividends, giving The Cribs a rhythmic backbone that feels fresh without betraying their fundamental identity. The riff is pure Cribs—angular, infectious, and impossible to get out of your head—but the way it's framed here makes it feel almost like a different beast entirely. Ryan's vocals are particularly sneering, dripping with contempt and world-weariness in equal measure. It is the kind of song that would absolutely destroy live, the sort of track that can turn a festival crowd into a heaving mass of bodies.
"You'll Tell Me Anything" stands out as the album's only track produced with someone other than Wimberly—Gordon Raphael stepped in for this one, and you can hear the difference in approach. There's a rawness here that feels almost confrontational, with guitars pushed right to the front of the mix and vocals that sound like they were recorded in one take. It's a classic Cribs kiss-off, the kind of song they've always excelled at, full of righteous indignation and bitter honesty. The production emphasizes the garage rock purity of their earliest work, serving as a nice contrast to the more polished approach elsewhere on the record.
"Rose Mist" offers a brief respite from the intensity, though it's hardly a ballad by any conventional measure. There is an almost dreamy quality to the verses, with reverb-drenched guitars creating an unexpectedly atmospheric soundscape that recalls some of the more experimental moments on their Johnny Marr collaboration. It doesn't last long—by the time the chorus hits, we're back in familiar territory—but it's a nice moment of light and shade that shows the band's growing confidence with dynamics and their willingness to explore textures that might have felt out of reach on earlier records.
"Distractions" is where The Cribs demonstrate their ability to balance sweetness and tension within a single song. The verses are deceptively melodic, almost gentle, before the chorus explodes with that trademark Cribs intensity. There is a push-pull dynamic throughout that keeps you engaged, never quite letting you settle into a comfortable groove. Ryan's guitar work here is particularly inventive, constantly shifting and evolving as the song progresses. It's the kind of track that reveals new layers with each listen, the sort of deep cut that hardcore fans will absolutely treasure even if it never gets the attention of the bigger, more obvious tracks.
"Brothers Won't Break" closes things out on a note that's both defiant and deeply affecting. After all the rage, frustration, and world-weariness that's come before, this feels like a moment of hard-won acceptance and renewal. The title says it all—this is The Cribs laying their cards on the table, acknowledging that their relationship as brothers and as a band has been tested but ultimately endured. The arrangement starts relatively sparse, letting the vocals and lyrics take centre stage, with layers gradually building until the whole thing explodes into a roar of assurance. The layered vocals create an almost hive-mind effect, as if all three Jarmans are speaking as one unified entity. By the final minute, when everything comes together in a crescendo that feels genuinely cathartic, you are left with no doubt that The Cribs remain one of the most irrepressibly vital bands in Britain.
The decision to work with Patrick Wimberly was clearly a gamble, but it's one that's paid off handsomely. Rather than sanding down The Cribs' rough edges, he has found a way to polish them just enough to let the songs shine through while maintaining everything that makes the band special. There is a confidence here that comes from a group of musicians who have spent two decades figuring out exactly who they are and what they want to say. They're not chasing trends or trying to sound like anyone else—they're just being The Cribs, refined and focused in a way they haven't been since their absolute peak.
Selling A Vibe is a triumph—a record that proves The Cribs remain one of British indie rock's most vital and uncompromising acts. More than anything else, it is a fantastic entry point for new fans to get on board while simultaneously rewarding the faithful who have stuck with the band through thick and thin. For fans old and new, this is essential listening. For everyone else, it's high time you gave this band another chance. You might just be surprised by what you find.
4/5
SELLING A VIBE – FULL TRACK LIST
Dark Luck
Selling A Vibe
A Point Too Hard To Make
Never The Same
Summer Seizures
Looking For The Wrong Guy
If Our Paths Never Crossed
Self-Respect
You’ll Tell Me Anything
Rose Mist
Distractions
Brother’s Won’t Break
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