Joe Keery, best known for his work on Stranger Things, continues to carve out a distinct lane with his musical project Djo. On The Crux, his third album, Keery leans harder into the eclecticism hinted at on Twenty Twenty and DECIDE, offering a swirling, genre-hopping collection that feels both deeply personal and relentlessly referential. This time around, he trades in bedroom synths for fuller, richer instrumentation—settling into Electric Lady Studios with longtime collaborator Adam Thein to create something with teeth, warmth, and unexpected turns.

The Crux plays like a fever dream tour through Keery’s record collection. The fingerprints of The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Talking Heads, and Depeche Mode are everywhere. At times, it’s charming—psychedelic finger-picking on “Potion,” 80s-leaning synth flourishes on “Basic Being Basic,” soaring choirs on “Back On You.” Other moments, like the whiplash transition between the orchestral “Lonesome Is a State of Mind” and the jittery hyperpop of “Basic Being Basic,” are jarring. The individual tracks mostly hold up on their own, but the album’s sequencing can feel scattershot, as if Keery is rushing listeners through eras of influence without giving each its due space.

Still, what The Crux lacks in cohesion, it makes up for in ideas. There’s a persistent undercurrent of identity, detachment, and self-awareness throughout the album. “Basic Being Basic” offers a sly critique of online posturing, skewering the paradox of modern individuality: “scared of being basic,” but in trying not to be, we become just that. “Egg” takes a darker turn, asking, “Can one be great? Can one be kind? When history shows they can’t be intertwined?” Keery doesn’t offer answers, but he’s willing to ask the questions out loud, allowing the listener to sit in the unease.

Standouts like “Link” and “Fly” showcase Keery’s growth as a songwriter and arranger. “Fly” in particular is a slow-burner that stretches beyond the typical Djo track length, layering harmonies and guitars in a way that feels more ambitious than anything he's done before. “Back On You” is another high point, opening with an almost gospel-like anthem before sliding into a tight, rhythmic groove, full of sharp percussion and call-and-response vocals.

And then there’s “Golden Line,” which quietly delivers one of the most touching moments on the album: “My intention was to make you proud.” It’s that mixture of vulnerability and theatricality that defines The Crux. Despite its uneven flow, the album pulses with earnestness—and maybe that’s the point. Keery isn’t chasing a single sound or genre; he’s throwing open the doors to everything that’s shaped him and letting it all in.

In today’s era of hyper-specific playlists and algorithm-approved homogeneity, The Crux is a strange and endearing counterpoint. Not everything fits, but that messiness is part of its charm. Keery isn’t here to be of the moment—he’s chasing something real, however elusive it may be.

Pre-order The Crux by Djo HERE