If you grew up recording songs off the radio with your finger hovering nervously over the “stop” button, The Midnight feels less like a band and more like a time-travel accident you’re happy to ignore. The duo — Tyler Lyle on vocals and Tim McEwan on production — formed back in 2012 and basically made it their mission to soundtrack the collective memory of people who half-remember prom night but vividly remember the smell of cassette tape plastic. They’ve been riding the synthwave wave ever since, stacking albums like Endless Summer, Nocturnal, Kids, Monsters, and Heroes into a glowing pile of neon nostalgia.

Syndicate is the biggest, most indulgent thing they’ve ever done. It sprawls. It wanders. It overstays its welcome — and you kind of love it for that. This is not an album that politely clocks out after forty minutes. This is the musical equivalent of cruising empty streets at 2 a.m. telling yourself you’re definitely going home after the next song. The production is lush in that “every sound is drenched in reverb and regret” way that The Midnight basically patented.

What still works shockingly well is the emotional core. These songs aren’t just retro cosplay — they ache. Lyle’s voice floats between heartbreak and hopeful stubbornness, like he’s reading your high-school journal out loud but with better lighting. There are sax lines that have no business making you feel this reflective about your life choices, and yet here we are, wondering why nobody ever made synthwave this good back when malls were still cool.

Sure, the album is long. Painfully long in a few spots. There are moments where you think, “Guys, you could’ve cut two tracks and nobody would’ve noticed.” But then a new melody creeps in, or a chorus detonates, and suddenly you’re right back in it — emotionally compromised and fully prepared to forgive everything.

If you want to live inside Syndicate, it’s streaming everywhere you’d expect: Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal, Qobuz — all the usual suspects. If you’re old-school enough to want something you can actually hold, you can grab vinyl, CDs, and some dangerously cool merch straight from The Midnight’s official store.

Bottom line: Syndicate doesn’t try to be modern. It doesn’t try to be efficient. It tries to feel — and for Gen-Xers who still believe music should hit a nerve instead of an algorithm, that’s kind of perfect.