On his debut album ‘Shadow Work’, singer songwriter Sam Varga made the juxtaposition of angst ridden, emo-centric lyrics and radio friendly melodies appear very natural. Despite the fact the record took all of about four seconds for him to confront his audience with the revelation that he felt like he was “rotting from the inside out” and another couple before dropping an f-bomb for extra angst, the album remained very accessible. At its best, tunes like ‘Stories We Tell’ and ‘Apocalypse’ played like the natural successor to the Ryan Adams best-selling ‘Gold’; ‘Up Down’ took the poppy heart of Simple Plan’s more commercial work and transplanted it into more of a singer songwriter sphere, while the chorus of the brilliant ‘Live Up To It’ gave a confident nod to the more contemporary pop rock of Bleachers. All the while, Varga still managed to sound like his own man – a songwriter with an occasionally sharp tongue, but in possession of an even sharper ear for a great melody.

Less than a year on, ‘The Fallout’ – a seven track mini-album, released in October 2025 – Varga offers his growing fan base more honesty via his songwriting, but this isn’t a bad thing. Lyrically, the material often plays like a natural extension of his previous long player. Musically, it’s sometimes a different story, with a good chunk of ‘The Fallout’ presenting an artist unafraid to venture into different genres.

Jangling guitars and a semi-acoustic vibe aren’t necessarily the first things you’d associate with an angry workout, but in keeping with the best parts of his debut, Varga combines a seething lyric with a feel-good pop-rock melody to create something striking on the fantastic ‘Minute Man’. Appearing even more outspoken than before, he laments the “passing of the nuclear football”, the melting of the ice-caps, and teases about a cure for cancer being “locked away” whilst those in charge “crack open another beer”. By referencing children kissing their mothers before school because they “don’t know if they’re coming back”, it’s a song that really doesn’t mess around. It’s also the kind of track that really hits from the get go. Musically, it’s great too; the layered sound falls somewhere between Pete Yorn, Five Easy Pieces and other sounds 90s pop rock boom spearheaded by Matchbox Twenty. It’s especially cool how the performer manages to drop various nods to his Nashville location and hints of Americana in what’s essentially an angst fuelled pop rocker, but everything has a huge appeal, and repeat listens only confirm its all round brilliance.

Almost as strong, the acoustic opening of ‘Long Way Back’ shares a really great vocal with Varga’s voice absolutely soaring. Using this as a springboard, the number grows to include a strident folk pop melody, with mandolin sounds fleshing out a great riff, whilst shuffling drums give the sense of everything being propelled forward apace. With echoes of Pete Yorn and a couple of nods to well crafted emo pop, Varga creates a crossover sound that’s really impressive, and despite the arrangement being rather busy, it never feels cluttered. Over a folk oriented wall of sound, he delivers an energised vocal and shares a narrative that shares the romance in throwing caution to the wind, only to find the “devil may care” attitude ultimately results in disaster. The boom-chicka-boom rhythm is a smart choice here: its evocative sound is a perfect fit with the chorus hook where the protagonist sings of trying to “keep the train on the rails”. This is classic Varga, and every bit as good as anything on his debut LP – if not better.

Taking a moment of quiet, the finger picked acoustics of ‘Sunday Scaries’ lean further into Varga’s Americana interests. The minimalist arrangement allows for a closer listen to a great voice, and lyrically, he’s as honest as ever. In this instance, he laments how his “clothes don’t seem to fit” (a classic metaphor for hoping to become someone better) and asks “is it all downhill from here?” after “falling from the social stratosphere”. The blend of achingly sad lyrics and beautiful melody suits Varga perfectly, and the almost live sounding recording gives this release a really honest centrepiece. Lovers of an Americana-pop blend should make a beeline for ‘What If I’m Okay’, a solid pop-rock stomper, peppered with handclaps, a steady punch from the bass drum and a liberal helping of banjo to link everything. The rootsy feel is strong during the first half of this number – certainly more obvious than on the rest of the material – but that’s balanced brilliantly by the arrival of electric guitar with a crying tone and huge harmony vocals tapping into Sam’s emo-pop side on the latter part of the number. In terms of capturing all of the artist’s key musical interests in a tightly wound three minutes, this does a near perfect job.

There are more Americana strains colouring ‘Queen of The Ashes’. A number that hints at a quietLOUDquiet arrangement from the 90s, the acoustic elements sound great, but the number only really hits once the rest of the band crashes in. The marriage of busy acoustic guitars, distorted electrics and busy bluegrass embellishments calls back to some of Amy Ray’s folk-punk contributions to early Indigo Girls albums, and in the hands of this performer, the already familiar sound continues to shine. Adding a touch more pop to the Americana, ‘Isabella’ offers something immediately catchy. The rousing quality of the arrangement shares a little DNA with bands like Noah & The Whale, especially in the way the chorus latches on to some jubilant sounding gang vocals, but the heart of the number has an honest quality that fits naturally with the bulk of Varga’s work. Despite working a melody around a busy mandolin, this is one of the most radio friendly tunes on this release; Sam’s love of modern pop comes through in massive waves, particularly via a soft delivery on the verse, but also in the way he doesn’t shy away from a terrifically simple hook.

In closing, Varga goes back to basics with a hard strummed acoustic guitar and relentless sense of rhythm. Adopting a strong folk-punk stance, the core of the melody calls back to early Frank Turner fare, coupled with the drive of the occasional folk punk elements of the Swingin’ Utters, but Sam’s clean toned vocal and gift for sharing a simple hook ensures everything sounds unmistakably from his own hand. He’s able to take some classic influences here and sharpen them considerably. Armed with lyrics concerning the aftermath of a drunken night and how “whoever’s at the wheel can’t be trusted any more”, he shares sentiments that most listeners will have felt at some time during their younger years. Adding to the careening sound, a ghost-like slide guitar takes on the role of a lapsteel’s cry with a harsher edge, giving the stripped down tune a great counter melody. It’s a strong finish, certainly, but the way it stops dead is a master stroke; it really gives this tale of going off the rails a hard jolt into reality, almost as if waking abruptly from a personal nightmare.

Despite being released so soon after ‘Shadow Work’, ‘The Fallout’ is every bit as sharp. Nothing here hints at being a leftover or an also-ran, and Varga saunters through the difficult process of delivering a well crafted second release with a confidence that’s more than impressive. For lovers of the debut LP, ‘Minute Man’ and ‘Long Way Back’ make this a must hear, but for anyone approaching Sam’s work for the first time, all seven cuts will probably make a great impression. The ‘Minute Man’ single more than suggested this would be a release that cemented Varga as a talent to watch, but ‘The Fallout’ is potentially even better than expected. A highly recommended listen.

September 2025