Djo’s debut album Twenty Twenty is a worthwhile experience for fans enjoying his recently viral “End of Beginning.”
Anyone on TikTok will likely know “End of Beginning,” the heart-throbbing song that’s taken the app by storm. If you know “End of Beginning,” you may also know that Djo, the song’s creator, is none other than Joe Keery, who plays Steve Harrington on Stranger Things.
But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m not even here to talk about DECIDE, the album that “End of Beginning” comes from – though you should listen to that. The sequence from “Change” to “Go For It” is magnificent and amidst the body-swaying bangers on the album, “End of Beginning” is honestly one of my lesser favourites.
I’m here to talk about Twenty Twenty, Djo’s neo-psychedelic debut album, a bizarre and beautiful auditory experience from start to finish, which feels like the highs and lows of a drug trip. It harnesses the same emotional core that has attracted folks to “End of Beginning” while leaning into strange and wonderful places.
A lot of fans online say that “Showtime,” the album’s opener, is their least favourite song on the album. Well, no duh, it’s an opener. It exists as a framing device for the songs to come, yet it’s delightfully silly and somewhat decrepit, with the manipulated, drawling voice repeating and then moaning “Showtime” over sluggish guitar chords. The intro feels like it takes place in a back-alley carnival, cheap and dirty but also unbelievably entertaining.
“Personal Lies” builds around a strong and catchy instrumental melody that guides the song into a euphonious sound near the end. Over it all, Djo sings in a fun staccato tone, playfully bringing up unsafe substance use but equally writing it off: “I failed to notice when I blew past my limit / And then I lied about it, said I didn’t.”
The bridge is a riffing guitar solo that features just a touch of that psychedelic wriggle. Overall, the song and its effect on the album is best described by the line: “I caught a current and I’m floatin’ away.”
As we float through the carnivalesque and sombre “Tentpole Shangrila,” we are shown some of the disturbing downsides of living life in the clouds, specifically in showbiz. “Let me down, this is freaking me out / All of this attention turns the glamorous on its side,” Djo sings at the song’s beginning. By the song’s end, after acknowledging that he’s changed and wants to go back, his lover says she doesn’t recognize him.
After that abrupt ending, the album continues to float through “Just Along for the Ride,” a song that feels like a stoner’s road trip. The end of the first chorus feels akin to a deep exhale, or a summer wind in your lungs, but then the song returns to its plucky guitar. Lyrics like “So rest your head / And go to bed / But they won’t let him” feel like an exhausted acknowledgement of a life on the road defined by drugs and burnout.
“Chateau (Feel Alright)” is the last and best of the gloomy songs in this lineup, with its disjointed harmony and hazy, romantic lyrics representing the peak of a drug trip. And yet, the song begins with the lyrics, “Help, something’s wrong with me.” Sure enough, after the daze of the repeated chorus at the end, the song crashes into harsh static.
The next single on Twenty Twenty is almost my favourite, though another song coming up just ekes ahead. “Roddy” begins in the cadence of a lullaby and grows into a mournful combination of synth, choir and guitar as Djo reflects on the repercussions of that earlier trip: “One drink’s what led to the change / Out on my own, kicked out of the show.”
The song takes a sudden shift after the seeming revelation of, “And somethin’ struck me, it struck me deep,” as the choir takes over and a disjointed voice says “Amen / I said ‘Amen’” over and over again. Then the song is taken over again by a groaning, groove-inducing synth track, all the while the voice keeps trying to remind us that he’s saying “Amen.” This feels like inevitability at its darkest; Djo wants to change, to grow from this experience, but nobody is listening to him. “I said, ‘Amen!’”
“Ring” feels like the epitome of the Djo alter-ego, which gets explored further in DECIDE. This droning, staccato voice makes for a fun listen before the song picks up with bravado and barrels into a killer, fuzzy guitar solo. The second half of the song is essentially a repeat of the first until the song regresses into the substance-laden psychedelics of, “Slowly shrink away.” The casual conclusion of this song quickly distorts into a creepy, melted version of itself before a voice commands, “Stop,” and the next song begins.
The next two songs, “BBNG” and “Mortal Projections,” are unremarkable. “BBNG” has a fun synthy interlude and an 8-bit romantic aesthetic. “Mortal Projections,” on the other hand, is a heartbreak tune that feels immediately darker, with a gothic opening on the synth and lyrics like, “Thinking that I might pack it up and throw it all away.” They’re both good songs, but nothing particularly stands out.
Speaking of not standing out, “Total Control” is probably the least impressive song on the album. It feels more like an 80s infomercial, or like a creepy guy in an elevator is whispering at me to “Relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax.” Overall, it doesn’t entirely work for me, but at least it precedes a certified banger.
“Flash Mountain” is the most rock song on the album, characterized by heavy guitar riffs and confident lyrics, like Djo himself is standing atop Flash Mountain as he performs. At the same time though, the song feels light. Its lyrics imply a triumph over substance, with some saying, “I don’t want it / I don’t need it / Better off without it / I won’t use it / I’ll abuse it.” The bridge consists of a killer segment that builds up on harmonizing guitars before crashing cymbals join the fray, then quickly transitions to a whiny guitar and settles back into the groove of the song. This is a departure from the album, but I love it.
Finally comes “Mutual Future (Repeat),” a moving and beautiful song when listened to in the dead of night with headphones and closed eyes – also, this one is my favourite.
The song begins with a lone guitar picking out the tune of the melody, a melody that Djo takes his time joining into with, “Mentally unprepared for the future that I’m livin’ in.” His soft voice and the gentle, almost ukulele-esque guitar combine to pull on the heartstrings of anyone listening. This is a love song, yet it feels tragic.
During the bridge, Djo’s crying “I want you / Baby, I need you” feels deeply intimate. As it continues and the guitar joins, the bridge spills over musically and emotionally as the final repeated riff of the album floats the listener back into that summer breeze they started in, now rich with love, memory and hope.
And at the end of the song, if you didn’t catch the repeated riff from “Showtime,” you will discover that this album is cyclical, looping back on itself so you can listen all over again: a dark message in an album that seems to deal with substance abuse and the repetitive cycle of addiction, even if the last song is beautiful.
If you like the 30 seconds of “End of Beginning” that everyone is hearing on TikTok, you will probably love the 45 minutes of Twenty Twenty. Listen to DECIDE as well, especially if you’re into more energetic songs. There’s nothing better than listening to an album front to back, just as an artist intended. Djo seems to understand this, as the “Change” to “Go For It” sequence and cyclical nature of Twenty Twenty seem to imply.
Regardless, this album is an experience that deserves all the same attention as “End of Beginning.”
