This is a monster of an album, dragged out from under a hospital bed into the spotlight, shaking and strutting and standing like a rock star. Musically and lyrically, "All of Us Flames" exudes raw power and messy emotion, a cri de coeur and an altar call and a riot going on, passionate even in its quiet moments, tender like an open wound. Imagine "The River" if Springsteen were bisexual, genderqueer, and trans, coming of age after the collapse of the American century. Furman knows what it feels like to fail, and have no choice but to keep going; knows what it feels like to have nothing but each other, and lose a little more every day. These taut, desperate songs reflect that: they carry the weight of unconditional surrender, they know that they will not be taken prisoner. This is a portrait of the artist engaged in an existential struggle, an act of defiant love with a horn line, thundering drums, evanescent synths, and towering guitars. This one is for the losers and the lost, and the ones who love them.