Barely three lines into the opening number of his solo debut, experimental musician Max Rael has already embraced differences not being like anyone else and told his audience he feels exhausted. The frankness in which the artist’s neuro divergence is discussed throughout ‘Slightly Less Than Human’ is a signifier of the album’s honest approach as a whole. ‘We Are The Enemy’ isn’t so much a collection of songs; more a world of personal statements, shared with a heart and disarming honesty, but also with the hope that Rael will attract kindred spirits. Obviously, this doesn’t aim for a broad commercial potential, but as albums go, it’s never less than interesting.

Those approaching this album via an interest stemming from Rael’s main project History of Guns are likely to connect with the slightly aggressive ‘Eight Miles Down and Falling Fast’, a number that works a world of heavy beats and coldwave synth lines to create a really dark atmosphere. In spoken tones, Rael sounds like the ultimate refusenik, claiming he “will not change” when he “sees the lies ahead”, before bellowing “leave me alone” by way of a direct hook. The vocal is incredibly detached; Rael continues to deliver more questions than answers (“why bargain with the devil?” being a key thought here), but the unsettling narrative actually suits the musical backdrop which moves between spiky synth work with an 80s goth edge and into melodies that sound like eastern European folk tunes reworked to fit the cold keyboard driven sound. The fact that this shouldn’t work naturally but Rael has ultimately made it work says so much about the musician’s lack of convention – and it’s great.

Introducing more of a melody, ‘Almost’ opens with pulsing keys which sound like a Tangerine Dream film score from 1984, before sliding into synthesized orchestral sounds which reinforce a soundtrack-like quality. With the arrival of Max’s voice, though, its all change and everything shifts into a punchy rhythm that mixes mid 80s synth pop tones with a light industrial edge. It’s hard not to be reminded of Ministry’s pre-industrial recordings and very occasionally a couple of deeper cuts from now unfashionable bands like China Crisis. Naturally, Rael’s spoken vocals provide a common link with ‘Eight Miles’, and in this case, his poetic outpouring deals with an event loaded with personal disappointment. “We came so close we could taste it…almost”, he opines, reiterating the “almost” as if it were punctuation. “This big wedge between us seems insurmountable”, he continues – never really making clear what had caused such an upset. It could be the breakdown of a relationship, or a rift between musicians, but he finishes with a moment of clarity and relative positivity when he says “the only way forward is to take everything apart”. For those who aren’t into soul bearing, this might still appeal through musical prowess, since the very 80s feel allows for some very broad melodic strokes throughout, and despite the synths bringing a relative detachment, Rael’s compositional approach allows for some decent melodies to creep through the cracks.

Also on the more accessible side, ‘Brighter Future’ presents a pulsing tone and high pitched melody that hints at a pre-fame Human League, before twisting itself into a mid tempo, beat heavy workout that explores the darker spheres of synth pop. Rael’s chosen musical is approach certainly retro, to the point where the rhythms occasionally appear to want to slip into Visage’s classic ‘Fade To Grey’, but his lyrical palate draws from the present at the time of release, lamenting a dark world. His choice of delivering everything as a spoken word performance over the cold musical arrangement remains bold; his voice feels even more detached than the music itself. A love for old analogue sounds bleeds through everything; the marriage of an early 80s bleakness and a strong melodic core delivers something that’s absolutely fascinating – very cool without deliberately aiming to be so, if that makes sense. Elsewhere, ‘For The Last Time’ presents deep basslines, soaring string-influenced melodies and booming drums, taking Rael’s electronica into the realms of prog rock. The grand musical approach is gorgeous, and offset by a tale of death – whether literally or metaphorically – it gives the album a number that demonstrates Rael’s thoughtful (and sometimes genuinely sad) state of mind with ease.

Almost dance-y, ‘Pressing Against The Glass’ wastes no time in setting a busy beat in place, and the marriage between the programmed drum sounds and off-kilter tinkling – sounds like glass block sounds on a retro keyboard = creates an interesting insight into Rael’s quirkier side. There are moments where the melody swoops with grandiosity whilst Rael discusses feeling like a genuine outsider – the pressing against the glass metaphor is less than subtle – and others where the most dominant keyboard sounds feel as if they’ll drop into old 8-bit arcade machine soundtracks. The difference between the two extremes is striking, yet not as striking as Rael’s decision to have his voice half buried in the end mix. That really is the ultimate demonstration of the disconnect within his lyric. A few plays in, and this doesn’t actually feel quite as jarring, and could even be an album highlight in time.

Adopting a riff that sounds like a throwback to the UK rave scene in the 90s, ‘Becoming Conscious’ feels a little more direct than some of this album’s other cuts, and with that riff re-used effectively as a bridge between the verses, it’s an arrangement that comes with a much bigger musical hook. Between the appearances of that riff, however, Rael settles into a comfort zone when throwing slam poetry lines, semi-coldly, against a wall of synth pop sounds. This might sometimes feel like he’s working in a safe zone for those who’ve already heard the pre-release singles, but it’s a track that’s well arranged, and Max’s unflinching honesty when he explores feelings of “being lost forever” and “cuts that will never heal” stops anything familiar from feeling in any way safe.

‘Saviour’ moves even more deeply into the realm of the spoken word when Rael allows his voice to dominate with a warmer tone at first, whilst musically the assembled bleeps and beats fits naturally with the bulk of the rest of his work on this album. Here, more than ever though, Rael’s chosen tone and his ability to make the audience sit up and listen feels disarmingly natural. However, once he knows he has everyone on side, he spirals into despair, crying for help as the once melodic electronica shifts into unsettling noise. Nothing on ‘We Are The Enemy’ is easy listening, but this is quite disturbing. Thankfully, ‘My First Death’, regardless of its title, is a touch more user friendly. The heartbeats and synths applied by way of an introduction supply a touch more of a proggy feel – largely through years of association with ‘Dark Side of The Moon’ – before Max swerves into a landscape of big drums and glitchy beats. Between the noisier elements, keys play an oriental tinged riff; a rhythm track that sounds more like the presense of real drums works with the keys to work a glam-rock inspired swagger, and eventually a metallic lead guitar pierces through everything with a true anger. Rael, of course, is happy to find enough space for a spoken word delivery, and despite this track being quite different to the bulk of the album, there’s something strangely comforting about his colder tones.

Opening with a wall of strident beats, the aforementioned ‘Nothing Less Than Human’ – an album highlight – immediately evokes a couple of 80s classics from New Order and Pet Shop Boys, before Rael introduces a deep, parping synth counterpoint that takes the upbeat rhythm somewhere a little more unsettling. His spoken vocals take on a pleasingly flat delivery, so perfectly suited to the subject matter, as the performer explores the feelings of his diagnosis of autism well into adulthood, frankly expressing how he “spent a long time trying to pretend” and how “mostly he can pass” when it comes to navigating a social situation. It’s a great example of how a thoughtful lyric needn’t be complex. This hits hard, and is guaranteed to resonate with those who are neuro diverse. Against the message, the music moves from strength to strength, with the layers of synth shifting from rigid sounds set against swooping blankets of noise and into a pop-ish passage that sounds like Landscape in a very bad mood. The two very different styles create a contrast during very rhythmic climax, helping Rael’s distinctive style to really come into its own, sounding deliberately cold at the point where he hits the audience with a rather frank pay off line.

Arty, often cold, always introspective: this is a brave work that allows Rael to lay his soul bare for anyone who cares to listen. ‘The Enemy Is Us’ is very much a “Marmite record”, in that it won’t be accepted or enjoyed by everyone, but for those who manage to find a suitable way in, it will be loved. It’s certainly the History of Guns man’s boldest work, and a reminder that by thinking a little outside of the box, it’s still possible to share something that’s genuinely alternative.

July 2025