Here’s a hard pill to swallow: even with the countless albums we review annually, there are always hidden gems that slip through the cracks. That’s why, from now until December’s end, we’re reviving our No Album Left Behind series to shine a spotlight on the most underrated records of 2025. And this is where it gets personal—because today, we’re diving into Racing Mount Pleasant by the band of the same name, an album that deserves far more attention than it’s gotten.
Indie rock has a familiar trope: a six- or seven-piece band from a chilly corner of the world releases a warm, lush album that feels like a hug on a cold day. Think For the First Time by Black Country, New Road, Funeral by Arcade Fire, or You Forgot It in People by Broken Social Scene. These bands, often clad in sweaters and armed with jazzy interludes and soaring choruses, have carved out a space in the genre. Racing Mount Pleasant fits this mold, but with a twist. This Michigan-based septet doesn’t just pay homage to their spiritual predecessors—they carve out their own path, infusing every track with something uniquely theirs. But here’s where it gets controversial: while their influences are clear, is their sound truly innovative, or are they just another band in a long line of indie rock imitators? Let’s explore.
The band’s journey began in 2019 as Kingfisher, formed during freshman orientation at the University of Michigan. Their debut, Grip Your Fist, I’m Heaven Bound, released in 2022, was a promising blend of indie folk and big band chaos. But it wasn’t until they rebranded as Racing Mount Pleasant—a cheeky nod to a highway sign pointing to Racine, Wisconsin, and Mount Pleasant, Michigan—that they truly found their voice. The name change wasn’t just cosmetic; it marked a shift in lineup and sound, setting the stage for their self-titled sophomore album.
Inevitably, comparisons followed. Black Country, New Road? Check. Arcade Fire? Of course. Broken Social Scene? Unavoidable. Even Bon Iver’s Midwest sound and Anathallo’s chamber folk loom large. And this is the part most people miss: while these influences are undeniable, Racing Mount Pleasant isn’t just a patchwork of their heroes. The album feels like one continuous journey, divided into movements that keep listeners on their toes. It’s ambitious, fresh, and undeniably their own.
The album is a concept piece, loosely centered on memory. Specifically, two memories: waking up in a partner’s old apartment, and visiting their new place on the 34th floor of a high-rise. These moments are woven into 13 tracks, each exploring different angles of the same stories. Think of it as a quilt—perfect for a Midwestern winter—where each song is a panel, contributing to a larger, cohesive whole.
Bookended by Your New Place and Your Old Place, the album is tied together by a central character (Emily, presumably the partner) and a recurring musical motif: a lone guitar riff and a haunting violin swell. It’s a structure that could feel repetitive, but Racing Mount Pleasant keeps it captivating. The tension between loud and quiet, the interplay of time and space—it’s all masterfully handled. The album’s cold, moody sound, reflected in its frigid cover art, contrasts with its grand, sprawling scale. It’s an album that takes its time, building not toward a destination but an encompassing feeling.
Take Your New Place, for example. The song opens with two minutes of tender guitar and saxophone, a stillness that gives way to the album’s true beginning. It’s a perfect introduction, showcasing the band’s ability to shift moods and perspectives. Tenspeed (Shallows), with its ghostly repetition, questions the reliability of memory, while Emily is the album’s opus—a track that shines a light on the central character while the narrator grapples with the end of their relationship. The crescendo, with vocalist Sam DuBose’s raw scream, is nothing short of breathtaking.
The album’s core comes in two parts: You and You Pt. 2. The former, with its shimmery sax and echoes of Justin Vernon, bridges the gap between the two memories. The latter, with its rising harmony and restrained intensity, leaves you questioning which memory you’re inhabiting. It’s a masterclass in tension and release, culminating in the repeated phrase, “I’ll fall back into you,” sung in every possible way.
Call It Easy, the record’s first single, is another standout. A seven-minute epic, it shifts from gentle tenderness to sharp-toothed bite with precision. It’s a showcase of the band’s technical and artistic prowess, fully realized in a way their debut wasn’t. After the Hans Zimmer-esque instrumental 34th Floor, the album returns to Your Old Place, where DuBose’s reflection on the end of his relationship with Emily feels both familiar and heartbreakingly new. The musical motif from Your New Place returns, bursting into catharsis—only to be cut off abruptly, leaving the listener with a chilling realization: “Oh my god, is this just how it ends?”
Yes, you’ll hear echoes of their influences throughout Racing Mount Pleasant. But that doesn’t diminish its achievement. For a relatively young band, this is a cinematic, ambitious work of art that earns them a seat at the table with their predecessors. It’s a beautiful record, much like a harsh Midwest winter—bleak, yet undeniably stunning. And by its end, you’ll feel like you’ve emerged into the sunlight of spring, ready to embrace life anew.
Now, here’s the question: Does Racing Mount Pleasant break new ground, or are they simply perfecting a formula? Let us know in the comments—we want to hear your take!
