Badflower have never been in the business of making you feel safe, that’s not what they do. On No Place Like Home, the Nashville-via-LA alt-rock band’s long-anticipated third album, they double down on their talent for turning life’s darkest corners into strangely soothing rock and roll confessionals. It’s been a minute since 2021’s This Is How The World Ends because frontman Josh Katz and crew took their time to sharpen their edge. And it was worth it as we’re blessed with a record that feels like they’re opening up just to you and it’s disarmingly relatable.

The band, made up of Katz, guitarist Joey Morrow, bassist Alex Espiritu, and drummer Anthony Sonetti, mix a cocktail of anxiety, regret, and sardonic wit into an album that feels like a mirror held up to your worst thoughts… all with a knowing smirk. Badflower don’t so much confront pain as they wrap it in fuzzed-out guitars and self-awareness. It feels like the musical equivalent of laughing through a panic attack, and it works.

From the spiraling paranoia of “London” to the emotionally raw “Detroit” and “Paws,” a gut-punching meditation on pet loss that somehow avoids cheap sentimentality, No Place Like Home never shies away from discomfort. Instead, it leans in, finds the weird beauty in it, and plays it loud. “Haunting You” is another standout, full of hooks with lyrical teeth that take a bite out of lingering guilt and obsessive thoughts.

What separates Badflower from their peers isn’t just the themes they tackle, it’s how they do it. Katz delivers each line with equal parts vulnerability and venom, often turning his own neuroses into punchlines that sting. The production walks a tightrope between polished and in your face, letting the band’s message come through loud and clear. That message being…. sure, things are messy, but you’re not alone in it. Nearly a decade since they first broke out with 2019’s OK, I’M SICK, Badflower have only grown more fearless. No Place Like Home isn’t a warm embrace, it’s more like an honest talk in a dimly lit room. Cathartic, bracing, and oddly comforting, it’s proof that sometimes the best way to heal is to rip the bandage off, turn up the volume, and scream at the world.